


You are the Only One That Needs to Know

by durgasdragon



Series: Ever & A Day [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, References to Columbia Picture’s Holiday, Secret Relationship, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22031677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durgasdragon/pseuds/durgasdragon
Summary: He's not quite sure how he manages it or what he says to convince Dex, but somehow, they get away from the kegster and end up in one of the upstairs bathrooms.
Relationships: William "Dex" Poindexter/Connor "Whiskey" Whisk, William "Dex" Poindexter/Whiskey
Series: Ever & A Day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585801
Comments: 109
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

** You are the Only One That Needs to Know **

_Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Ngozi Ukazu’s_ Check Please! _, and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All other situations and plot developments are mine._

 _Summary:_ _He's not quite sure how he manages it or what he says to convince Dex, but somehow, they get away from the kegster and end up in one of the upstairs bathrooms._

 _First in_ Ever and a Day _._

 _Author’s Note: Title from All-American Rejects' 'Dirty Little Secret'. Many, many,_ many _nods to_ _Columbia Picture’s_ Holiday _(screenplay by Donald Ogden Steward & Sidney Buchman, play by Philip Barry)._ _Possible out-of-characterness and un-beta’d._

_Constructive criticism and comments are always welcomed._

_Published: 30 December 2019_

_Rating: NC-17_

Connor knows mostly what he is doing: He isn't _that_ drunk, but he definitely has had more alcohol than is probably advisable, which is how he gets talked into dancing. Which is how he trips when he ducks Nursey's flailing arms and ends up stumbling into Dex.

And Dex is _so_ warm and _so_ sturdy and _so_ much bigger than Connor that he doesn't push off of his hot teammate right away. He realises, a couple of seconds later, that he's trying to copy his former best friend's girlfriend's move—the one where she looks up at someone through her long eyelashes before coyly glancing down and biting her lower lip slowly. It's effective (she's got quantitative data and _everything_ ).

It's probably not the same from him—his eyelashes aren't nearly as lush as hers are and he hasn't practiced it nearly as much as she has, but Dex isn't shoving him away in disgust. In fact, that delightfully large hand is resting lightly on his back, steadying him and keeping him there.

"You okay?" Dex says, dipping his head down so he can be heard without shouting. Connor nods, and tilts his face towards the upperclassmen.

He's not quite sure how he manages it or what he says to convince Dex, but somehow, they get away from the kegster and end up in one of the upstairs bathrooms.

That's where the kissing starts. Dex is awkward at first, but either he's an amazingly quick study or he just needs a few moments to warm up, because it isn't long before Connor's knees stop working and the only things keeping him upright are Dex's very broad shoulders and the strong arms that are wrapped around him.

Dex isn't rough, but he isn't gentle, either. Teeth definitely get involved, but he doesn't try to bite until Connor begs him to. Even then, he's still considerate and only leaves marks where the smaller boy could hide them easily.

Dex also pays attention. If Connor gives him a favourable response or tells the taller boy to do something, he does it some more. It's a nice change of pace to have a potential lover that is as invested in his partner's pleasure as he is in his own.

Then those fabulous huge hands slid down to right under Connor's ass and Dex lifts him up, spinning him and dropping him on the counter.

_Fuck,_ that's _hot_. He knew that Dex was strong but _that_ …!

He reels Dex in and almost shoves his tongue down the freckled teen's throat.

He can feel the slight smile on Dex's lips. "Liked that, huh?" The older boy murmurs between eager kisses.

It's good, it's _so_ good, but it could be even _better_. Connor knots his fingers in the back of Dex's old flannel shirt and yanks it up, trying to pull it over Dex's head. It gets tangled and Dex has to step away so he can remove it properly, which is terrible. But he drops his flannel and undershirt carelessly to the side and immediately comes back to the smaller player and rucks up Connor's shirt, carefully smoothing calloused hands over ribs and back before leaning in and murmuring 'what do you want' in Connor's ear.

"You, I want _you_."

"Gonna have to be more specific," Dex says and pulls back enough that he can look the other boy in the eye. "But I'm gonna say it now—I'm not going to fuck in a Haus bathroom during a kegster."

Connor wants to whine out a ' _why not_ ' but before he can, Dex continues on. "I can use my hand or my mouth if there are condoms, if you'd like."

Oh, _fuck_. Dex's powerful, work-roughened hands or his tart, biting mouth? How is Connor supposed to decide between the two?

And—when was the last time someone offered him a hand job or a blow job, so freely, no expectations?

"Mouth," Connor finally gasps out, making the call. "Where are the condoms?"

A quick and somewhat frantic search of the bathroom commences and Connor curses himself for not bringing any. If he had been more prepared, he could be having Dex's sarcastic lips sliding down over him right now instead of realising that there are no condoms.

Next time. Next time, he'll have condoms and lube and gloves and whatever else he needs for a blow job and a fucking from Dex. He won't make this mistake again.

Dex kisses the misery out of his mouth with a softness that belies his hard shell and Connor can't help but melt against his broad, bare chest. With those strong hands cupping his head so gently and that sharp mouth caressing his, he wonders how he can convince Dex to do this on a very regular basis; he doesn't know why people haven't picked up on the redhead's hotness and attentiveness, but Connor's not about to make that same oversight. He's going try to lock Dex down before everyone wises up.

Dex peels Connor out of his shirt before unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. One large hand slips between the cotton of Connor's trunks and the denim of his jeans, cupping his ass, and _oh_ , that's nice. _More_ than nice. The shorter teen's hips twitch, torn between pushing back in to that hand and pressing up against that wonderfully strong thigh.

Then Dex is pushing both underwear and jeans down until they're right under Connor's ass before he picks up the dark-hair boy and puts him back on the counter again. He swallows the wrecked noise that Connor makes before carefully wrapping his hand around Connor's dick.

Everyone downstairs probably heard Connor's moan.

Dex gently shushes him and then says "tell me if you don't like something, okay?"

"Okay," Connor gasps. " _Please_."

The redhead has to slap his hand over Connor's mouth because he nearly screams at the first long stroke. The calluses of Dex's hand feel _amazing_. Almost too rough, but skating that fine line wonderfully.

It gets even better when Dex quickly licks his hand before returning to his stroking and starts adding careful scrapes of his teeth to Connor's neck. Connor whines and bucks up eagerly. Dex is almost looming over him and murmuring things like 'you're gorgeous' and 'you feel so good', which aren't the filthiest things the smaller boy has ever heard during sex, but they're delivered with such blatant sincerity and honesty, like Dex _has_ to tell him, that they _feel_ twice as erotic.

Connor has to bite Dex's broad shoulder to try and help keep him quiet when those long, strong fingers let go of his cock and cup his balls, the gentleness of the gesture in sharp contrast to the rough skin of the redhead's hands. Was the older teen trying to find _everything_ that would set Connor off and use it in one session? _God._

Somewhere in the back of lust-addled mind, Connor thinks that maybe he should be trying to return the gesture. Unfortunately, to do that, he would have to let go of the defenseman's frankly _amazing_ shoulder blades, and he doesn't know if he can do that, not until after he's come, at least.

Dex returns to his cock and it's only a few more strokes before the chestnut-haired boy has to smothers his howl in freckled skin as his orgasm overwhelms him. He doesn't mean to, but he claws wildly and leaves long, red scratches on Dex's back.

Dex's hand loosens until it's barely touching his cock, but he doesn't let go, allowing the smaller boy's hips to jerk at their own pace through the oversensitivity. He peppers slow, soft kisses over Connor's face, neck, and shoulder, murmuring sweet endearments in between each.

Still riding high, Connor tilts his head and captures Dex's mouth for a messy, lazy kiss before he pulls back. He catches Dex's hand, the one that's still covered in his release, and slowly licks at the rough fingers, cleaning them.

Dex makes a noise like someone elbowed him in the gut after slamming him into the boards and Connor glances up through his lashes. There's almost no gold left in the older boy's eyes and the flush from his face has spread down to his incredibly cut abs. He looks _amazing_ and the shorter forward is determined to make him feel as good as he did a few minutes ago.

So Connor makes sure to hold Dex's dark gaze as he slowly drags Dex's thumb along his lips, pausing to mouth at the calluses along the way. He curls his tongue around it, under the guise of catching those last few drops of semen before he draws his lips down so he can place a soft kiss on the soft, delicate inner skin of the wrist.

When the older teen makes another punched-out sound, Connor smiles slightly and reaches out and hooks his finger in Dex's belt loop, drawing him closer. Dex stumbles forward and Connor kisses him, slowly and filthily, as he undoes the redhead's belt and jeans.

He pushes the pesky fabric out of the way and makes himself pull back enough so he can get a good look at Dex's erection. He immediately returns to his regret of not having any condoms on him; Dex is thick and gorgeous, and the shorter boy knows that defenceman will feel _amazing_ inside of him.

"I can't wait until I can get my mouth on you," Connor murmurs as he wraps his hand around the redhead as best he can. "I'll get you nice and wet, and then I'll ride you until neither of our legs work anymore.”

All the air in Dex’s lungs leave in a rush and he drops his head down, messily trying to kiss the other boy. It’s uncoordinated and sloppy, but deeply flattering how quickly the freckled boy is spiralling out of control with just a few touches and a little dirty talk.

Connor only manages to gasp out a few more filthy half-formed phrases in between the chaotic attempts at kissing before Dex lets out a soft cry, body stiff and erection pulsing, and then he’s coming all over Connor’s hand.

The larger teen slumps over Connor, clumsily nuzzling his neck. His large hands curled around the forward’s waist, clearly unwilling to let go quite yet. It’s sweet, this quiet and awed gratitude, and it makes the smaller player feel warm and important and special.

Next time, Connor promises himself; next time, they’ll have condoms and a bed so when they use up all of the first thing, they can cuddle and touch in the second.

And Dex is—apparently—a gentleman, because he slowly pushes himself off of Connor, but only so he can help clean up the semen that’s all over the smaller boy’s hand and that’s dripped a little bit on the counter. He makes sure that Connor’s dressed, and his clothes and hair are presentable before he even thinks about himself.

“Do you…I mean…would you…could I walk you back to your dorm?” Dex fumbles out, awkward and adorable.

“The team might notice,” Connor points out, unhappy that he has to because he would like nothing more, but unwilling to let himself be so exposed when he knows what the price will be. “And…I’m not ready for that.”

The taller boy shrugs, ducking his head slightly. “Well, I’ll just say you’ve been sick. Then we don’t have to worry about people noticing that we were in the bathroom together for a while or why the room smells like air freshener. It’s perfectly reasonable that I make sure you get home safe if you’re drunk enough to be vomiting.”

And it’s such a simple solution, so painfully simple and obvious, that Connor can’t believe it. It’s one that nobody will think twice about. It will be right in everyone’s face, and nobody will bat an eye.

He looks up from under his lashes. “You do know that you’ll have to hold me up, right? I mean, I’m so drunk I can barely walk.” He presses himself up against the stronger teen’s side.

Dex’s smile is small, but beautiful. “That goes without saying.” He wraps his arm around the other one.

Connor buries his face in Dex’s flannel as he is guided out of the Haus to hide the glowing grin he feels on his face.

He can’t wait until next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still deciding on an update schedule; what do the readers want? Once a week? Twice a week? Every other week? I'm open to (realistic!) suggestions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, [bittycanbake (hit_the_books)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/bittycanbake) asked for once a week updates, and ye shall receive. I'll do my best to be on top of that.
> 
> Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Dex honestly thought it was a one-time thing.

Whiskey is _really_ good-looking and skilled and _obviously_ experienced, and so when he seduces the redhead at the kegster, Dex lets him. It was nice to feel wanted and desired for once, but Dex has no illusions. He's awkward, sharp in all the wrong ways, unattractive, boring, and horrifically fumbling in his inexperience (before Whiskey, he's kissed three people romantically and only one wanted a repeat performance), so the thing with Whiskey? It'll only happen once.

And Dex is okay with that. He's lucky to even get the one time and he can, at least, say that it happened. For one moment, somebody was willing to look past all of his flaws and want _him_. It's enough.

So when Whiskey comes up to him in the locker room after practice and says that he's having problems with his computer and maybe Dex could come up and look at it tonight, Dex doesn't think anything of it. His main purpose and use to the team off the ice is his ability to fix things; of _course_ Whiskey would ask him.

He makes the arrangements, and goes on with his day.

To say that Dex is surprised when he gets into Whiskey's room and the shorter boy doesn't even wait for him to take his boots off before he's up on his tip-toes, kissing the redhead hungrily, would be an understatement. His hands fly down and awkwardly grab the smaller teen.

Whiskey makes a soft sound of approval and goes back to kissing Dex like he's _starved_ for it. His hands expertly and eagerly untuck Dex's shirts, and seek out skin impatiently.

“I got tested,” Whiskey mumbles in between wet, fervent kisses. “And I’m clean. Paperwork’s over there if you want to see."

Dex swallows hard and makes himself respond. "Um, yeah, I'm clean, too."

Whiskey smiles into their kisses. "You ran out and got tested the next day too, huh?"

"I…no, but I've…at the kegster…it was the first time I’ve…I've only been with one person. Total," the upperclassman adds hastily when Whiskey pulls back. "So…yeah."

Whiskey stares at him, rufous eyes shocked. "You haven't been… _nobody?_ I was your… _seriously?_ "

Dex hunches his shoulders, embarrassed and ashamed. "Yeah."

"…People are blind and _stupid_ ," the shorter boy finally bites out before pulling Dex's mouth down to his, kissing him much more softly than he has been.

The gentleness only lasts for a few minutes before Whiskey's mouth gets hot and insistent, and he's pressing his lithe body up against Dex's heatedly. "I want you," he says, smearing the words across the older boy's lips. "I have everything we need and my roommate has a class and won't be back for a while. _Please_."

Dex doesn't know why this beautiful creature still wants him, with his lack of fineness and admitted lack of knowledge, but he doesn’t want to question things too deeply. Maybe later, when he's alone, he'll try to figure how he could ever be desirable to someone like Whiskey, but not now.

"Lemme take off my boots, okay?"

Whiskey seems loathed to leave him; the smaller teen drapes himself all over the redhead, clever fingers unbuttoning his shirt and a warm, wet mouth explores the side of Dex's neck as he struggles to get his boots off with such enticing distraction happening.

He finally manages to kick off his footwear and he curls his hand around the forward's jaw. He thinks he's starting to get a hang of kissing, so he tilts Whiskey's face and presses in. Considering how quickly his partner responds, he's not doing too poorly.

Dex remembers how Whiskey seemed to like being carried, so he offers up a quick prayer that he doesn't fuck this up or embarrass himself, shifts his position, and lifts Whiskey up. The darker-hair boy makes a thick sound and immediately wraps his legs around Dex's waist. He plunges his tongue deeply into Dex's mouth, moaning as the taller boy stumbles over to the bed he _really_ hopes is Whiskey's and drops them down on it.

Whiskey's hips roll forwards and the redhead is fairly sure his eyes just crossed with pleasure. It takes him a few minutes to gather up enough brain cells to speak. "Where are the condoms?" He manages to get out when the younger teen pulls back, gasping.

Whiskey groans deeply, and lunges sideways, fumbling in dresser drawer that's half open next to the bed. He flings condoms, lube, and plastic gloves on to the bed before shucking off his shorts and shirt. He climbs back on Dex's lap in only his trunks, hands pawing at the rest of older boy's clothing. " _Off_."

Dex barely pays attention to the command. Reverently, he smooths his hands over Whiskey's sides, dragging his finger over soft, flawless skin. The smaller boy is _so_ beautiful.

The bruises Whiskey had begged for have faded, but he trembles when Dex rubs his thumb over one. "Can I…can I make some new ones?"

The darker-haired teen groans again. " _Yes_ , god, _please_."

Dex leans forward and kisses the spot by the hinge of Whiskey's strong jaw—the spot that made the younger one shake and moan at the kegster—before he drags his mouth down to the delicate curve of a collarbone. He licks along the bone until he finds a spot that makes Whiskey's hip jerk, and that's where he goes to work, alternating bites and sucks until he's sure there is a bruise.

The younger boy has a death grip on his hair when he moves down to a perfect pec. Again, he tastes the skin until Whiskey's body tell him it's a sensitive spot, and then he leaves a mark.

By the time Dex has worked his way down those gorgeous abs to the waistband of Whiskey's underwear and laid the smaller teen out across the bed, there are numerous hickeys blooming on his warm skin and the dark-haired boy has resorted to biting his own hand keep from disturbing the neighbours. His hips restlessly push upwards, seeking contact with Dex's body.

Dex takes a deep breath, and hooks his thumbs under the waistband, pausing until the shorter boy manages to pull his hand away enough to gasp out ' _yes_ ', and then he peels off the last garment and drops it somewhere, not caring where because Whiskey is naked and the most exquisite thing he's ever seen.

His hands feel large and fumbling as he struggles with the foil packet for a moment. He manages to get it open— _finally_ —without destroying the condom inside, and then he rolls it down over Whiskey's perfect cock, remembering what the younger teen had wanted at the kegster. He prays to whomever is listen that he does this right.

"Dex? What are you— _oh my gooooood._ " The smaller boy's confusion immediately evaporates when the redhead braces his hips with one hand and takes as much of his cock into his mouth as he can. Dex nearly chokes, but it's worth it—Whiskey has shoved his hand back into his mouth, his eyes have rolled back into his head, and his back is sharply bowed.

And Dex has never done this before—all he has to guide him is what he's read and the response of Whiskey's body. He braces one arm across the lean hips and lowers his head again, only this time he uses his tongue. The condom tastes disgusting, but Whiskey's hips jerk against his arm, so he does it again.

He discovers that Whiskey likes the ridge under the head to be licked, and his moans can be heard around his hand if his balls are played with while being sucked. Dex tries once or twice to deep-throat the other teen, but he doesn't manage to do anything other than give himself a coughing fit. He's going to have to work on that, but for the most part, he doesn't think he's completely failing at the task at hand. He's probably not frying Whiskey's brain, but he thinks he's providing a reasonably enjoyable experience for someone at his skill level.

Whiskey's hand suddenly starts tugging at Dex's hair urgently. He makes a sound that vaguely resembles Dex's name from behind his other hand, and then his hips snap up, the condom filling.

Something hot and proud and primitive curls in Dex's chest; he did that. He made Whiskey come. Whiskey, who is beautiful and sensual and so far out of the redhead's league it isn't even funny— _Dex_ gave him that pleasure.

As the smaller teen's breathing slows down and evens out, Dex carefully cleans him up—pulling off the condom and carefully wiping away the remains with a tissue. He also takes a moment to strip down to his boxer briefs before laying on his side next to the other boy and hesitantly smooths his hand over Whiskey's beautifully defined abs. "You're so gorgeous," he whispers because he's never known a truer thing.

A soft smile flickers over the chestnut-haired boy's face before he leans in, seeking out Dex's mouth. His kiss is sweet and a bit sloppy, and the redhead soaks it up while he can.

Whiskey makes an approving noise in the back of his throat when his finger find skin instead of flannel, and he pushes until Dex rolls over, pulling the smaller teen over him. And _oh,_ doesn't _that_ feel amazing!

The forward sits back, his perfect ass pressing back against the freckled teen covered dick, and Dex bucks up slightly before he can stop himself. "Sorry," he gasps out, feeling his face and chest heat up.

Whiskey only smiles at him. "D'you remember what I promised last time?" He asks, rolling his hips in a slow, erotic gesture.

Dex's fingers probably are leaving bruises on the smaller boy's side, but he's having trouble coming up with a reason to care because all he can think about what had been said. "I…I don't know…I won't last," he finally manages to get out, his voice picking up a strangled edge. "Not through both."

The freshman hums contemplatively. "How short's your refectory period?"

Something that might be a whine tries to claw out of the taller boy's throat. "I… _Jesus_ …I'm not sure."

Whiskey's answering grin is wicked. "Well, you're about to find out." He ducks forwards, steals a wet, rough kiss, and then slides sensually down over Dex's longer legs. He yanks off the underwear that is in his way before he grabs a condom. Then—with a glance up between his lashes to make sure that Dex is watching—he rolls the condom on to Dex _with his mouth_.

A litany of profanity falls quietly out of the redhead's mouth as he slams his head backwards, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey,” the smaller boy lets up enough to murmur. “You should watch.”

“ _No_. I’ll…I’m already not going to last! I’d like to make it longer than ten seconds!”

Whiskey presses his mouth against the side of defenceman’s dick so he can feel the smirk. “Suit yourself.”

And then he goes to work.

Dex takes back every charitable thought he had about his own ability to give a passable blow job—there is _no way_ that he even came _close_ to making things _this_ enjoyable for his partner. _God_ , Whiskey’s _mouth_. There aren’t words for it—it’s _that_ mind-blowing.

And then Whiskey does something with his throat and the redhead is _gone_.

Hazily, Dex stares at the ceiling as he comes back down, too blissful to be embarrassed with how quickly he came. He can’t decide if he wants to thank the person who taught the younger boy how to do that or if he wants to strangle them. Maybe he’ll do both. It's a completely justifiable and reasonable plan.

Pretty, smug russet eyes come into his vision and he has time to blink before Whiskey is kissing him gently. “Back with us?” He asks, still radiating self-satisfaction and voice rough.

Dex gives his answer by pulling that smirking mouth back to his.

They kiss almost lazily for a few minutes until Dex’s hands can’t stay still any more. They pet warm skin, map out lean muscles, and catalogue sensitive spots. They can’t seem to get enough.

Whiskey eventually pulls back, amusement in his eyes. “Stop that. I’m supposed to be the one doing all the work here.”

“Sorry.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “It’d be more believable if you actually, you know, _stopped_.”

Dex tries, he really does, but how is he supposed to _not_ touch?

“ _Dex_.”

“I’m sorry! You’re just…you feel so amazing and you’re _so_ gorgeous,” Dex almost babbles.

The shorter boy’s face softens. "Flatterer," he says before dipping down again, lips and tongue sweeter this time.

Just as one of the redhead's hands is creeping up to cup the back of Whiskey's head and the other one is smoothing over a strong hip to stop right before the curve of Whiskey's ass before repeating the gesture, the freshman sits back. He catches the freckled hand by his hip (it has retreated guiltily away from his butt), and holds it steady as he reaches over. He grabs a glove and tugs it over Dex's rough fingers. "I already prepped myself before you came," he says, calmly and casually, as if the taller boy can live through such an announcement. "But next time, I'll show you how to loosen me up properly. For now, I need more lube."

Dex doesn't know how to describe the sound that comes out of his throat, but it whatever it is, it makes his partner smile slightly.

Whiskey coolly coats the older boy's fingers with lube and starts to guide the callused hand down.

"Um…shouldn't I…warm it up or something?" Dex somehow manages to find words, even as his fingers brush the other teen's entrance. It takes a strength he didn't know he had not to push in and test how loose Whiskey's body still is.

Dark eyes look down at him with a surprisingly soft, fond expression. "The bottle's been pressed up against my leg, so it's not going to be too cold. If it is, I'll tell you, okay?"

He swallows hard. "Yeah, okay."

Carefully, he rubs lubrication around the hole before he works up the courage and brainpower to press in with a single finger slowly. There’s a brief moment of resistance, and then he’s inside.

And _holy shit_. _HOLY SHIT_.

Dex isn’t even fully hard yet and he already knows this is going to be over too fast; that heat and that grip around his finger is _incredible_ and there is _no_ way he will last with it around his _dick_ , even with a previous orgasm.

Whiskey lets out something that’s akin to a sigh, seemingly ignorant of how short this is going to be. “Oh yes.” He tilts his head back slightly, eyes closed. “Move a little bit— _yes_. Like that. _Yeah_ , that’s good. Don’t stop.”

As if Dex _could_ stop with the shorter boy looking like that—pleasure written all over his face and erection full and starting to drip. "Beautiful," he mumbles, staring at how the other teen moves on his finger, all erotic grace and sensuality.

The muscles around Dex's finger clench briefly at the compliment. "Another finger," Whiskey demands, a little breathily. "And more lube."

Dex complies and as his presses inside, he tries curling his fingers slightly, feeling around. He's read that somewhere around _here_ —

Whiskey lets out a noise that's quite a bit louder than the last few have been and he falls forwards slightly. He catches himself before he tips too much, hands braced on the broad chest under him. " _Shit_ ," he gasps. "Oh _yes, there._ Right _there_. _Oh_ fuck, _yes_. _Again!_ " His hips roll eagerly to punctuate his desire.

Silently, Dex thanks the academy and the internet and everyone who has explained how to find the prostate.

And—because he's read about it and he's curious if it's as good as the internet claims—he rubs his thumb against the forward's perineum.

Whiskey's entire body convulses, as if he stuck a fork in an outlet. " _Fuck!_ " His arms give out and he collapses against Dex's chest, panting. " _Shit_."

Since his hips are twitching back towards Dex's hand, he repeats the gesture and this time, he crooks his fingers inside as well.

Whiskey only barely manages to muffle his scream in freckled skin.

A small part of the redhead feels mildly smug about the reaction, but the majority of him feels amazed that he was able to elicit such a response from the much more experienced teen.

" _Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck_ ," the freshman gasps into Dex's shoulder. "How—what— _where?_ "

"I read about it?" Dex offers, unsure if that's what's being asked, but moves his hand again as Whiskey's entire body rolls towards where they're connected, clearly seeking out the sensation.

Something that might have been a laugh if it hadn't been interrupted by a lust-filled moan spills out of the dark-haired boy. "Of _course_ …you did," he pants. " _God_."

The redhead catches the back of Whiskey's head with his free hand and guides the smaller boy's mouth to his as he works his fingers and thumb in tandem. It's not really a kiss, not with how wildly Whiskey's breathing and not with how he can't keep still on top of Dex, but it's still good. _So_ good.

And then Whiskey is yanking his mouth away and grabbing the wrist that's behind him. He forces himself up and back. Almost frantically, he grabs a condom and rips open the foil. Before Dex can do anything more than open his mouth, the shorter teen is rolling the prophylactic over Dex's cock, hands unsteady as he quickly adds a bit more lube.

Dex manages to grab the other boy's hips, but that's all he can do as Whiskey lines them up and sinks down.

_Holy._

_SHIT._

Dex is running through every disgusting thing he can think of in an attempt to not immediately come _right now_ , and the end of that list is approaching _dangerously_ fast. Whiskey is tight and hot and slick and Dex is _dead_. There is _no way_ this kind of pleasure exists in the land of the living.

"Oh fuck," Whiskey groans above him. "I knew you would feel amazing inside of me. I knew you'd fill me up so good, _god_."

" _Please_ ," Dex wheezes out. "Stop…stop talking! Trying…not… _fuck_." Even as he begs, the redhead can't stop his hips from twitching up.

Whiskey doesn't listen. He braces one hand on the freckled chest below him and rises up, only to drop back sharply. " _Yes,_ _fuck_ ," he mutters. "To the _brim_. _So_ thick."

When he lifts up again, Dex can't help himself. He jerks up as he yanks the other boy's hips down. His whole body sings with pleasure as Whiskey's head falls back, crying out.

There's no stopping now. Dex can barely see straight as he bucks up into that tight heat a few more times. He doesn't even have time to warn his partner before his orgasm smashes into him with the force of tsunami.

Whiskey is muttering filthily half-finished profanities and jerking himself off harshly when Dex finally is able to take stock of the situation again. Still too floaty to feel guilty about how quickly he finished, Dex clumsily reaches out to help. It's the _least_ he can do, considering what the freshman has just done for him.

He feels awkward when he carefully rolls Whiskey's balls in his hand, trying to be mindful of how rough his skin is, but the forward almost shouts before _clenching_ and coming all over Dex's chest.

And _shit_ , the redhead can feel _everything_ because he hasn't completely slipped out. The sensation is almost too much.

Whiskey is panting as he collapses on top of the larger defenceman, completely oblivious of the mess he's just fallen in. He whines quietly in disappointment when his movements cause the two to separate, but doesn't move.

The urge to touch again nearly overwhelms Dex, so he smooths one hand down the smaller boy's lean back and uses the other one to comb through the sweaty strands of hair. He presses a soft kiss to Whiskey's temple and feels wonderment when the other boy nuzzles into his touch.

As the younger teen's breathing returns to normal, Dex props himself up slightly, looking for the box of tissues again. The drying come will stick them together soon if something isn't done about it, and it can't be comfortable for the freshman to be lying in.

Whiskey makes an unhappy sound when Dex gently lifts him over to the side so he can get up and grab the trash and the box of tissues from where it fell. The defenceman disposes of the condom, gives himself a perfunctory wipe-down, and tosses the ripped open foil packs before turning his attention to the darker-haired boy.

He cleans up Whiskey with far more care and consideration than he gave himself. The shorter boy watches him from under hooded eyes and reaches out for him as soon as he finishes. Dex follows the other teen's hands as they tug him back down and he sinks into the kiss appreciatively. It's sweet and slow and satisfying.

As much as Dex would be okay with kissing the freshman for the rest of night, he makes himself pull back. "Not to put a damper on things, but what time will your roommate be back at?"

"A little after nine." Whiskey twists so he can see his alarm clock. "We have a little bit of time, but not a lot."

"Should get dress, then," the redhead mumbles in the other's throat. "Remove some of the temptation."

"'Some'?" The chestnut-haired boy tilts his head back so Dex has more room.

"A very little. You are…" He fumbles for words. "Beautiful. _So_ beautiful."

Whiskey pulls his head up so they can kiss again, and the older teen can feel the smile under his lips.

It's Whiskey who pulls away this time. "Clothes," he says, his voice a bit more breathless than it had been just a moment ago, "or my roommate is going see something he doesn't want to."

Reluctantly, the taller boy gets up. He drags his fingers away from the other boy slowly and forces himself to look for his clothing. He wants to pull Whiskey against his chest and just hold him, but they don’t have time for that, not if they don’t want it all over the campus that they’ve fucked.

Dex opens the window over Whiskey’s bed a crack to help dispel the smell of sex from the room after he gets his shirt buttoned. He pauses; he wants to ask Whiskey if they could do this again—Whiskey _did_ promise to show him how to open up his partner—but he doesn’t want to presume. He also doesn’t want to pressure the shorter boy, but if Whiskey only wants something casual? Dex might have to turn him down; he’s already too invested and there’s no way that he can protect his heart if they do this on a regular, no-strings basis.

Whiskey clears his throat and glances off to the side when the redhead looks over at him. “So…I…really like you,” the forward says quietly. “But…I can’t be out. It would…my family…my grandparents are paying for my schooling and all of my hockey and they…would not take kindly to me…being out. So if that’s a problem for you, I understand.”

“My uncles would fire me before disowning me if they knew I like guys more than girls,” Dex admits, “and they’re how I’ve paid for anything since I was like, seven, so…” He shrugs.

The shorter teen looks up and meets his eyes. A silent understanding flows between them before Whiskey drops his eyes again. "I can't even be out here. I have family on campus who wouldn't think twice about ratting me out—well, Brandon _might_ think twice about it, but Kyle and Tanner _definitely_ wouldn't."

"Are they…?"

"Cousins. They play lacrosse."

Dex nods, things suddenly coming together. "Hence the time at the Lax house?"

"Hence the time at the Lax house."

"Okay." Dex thinks for a moment. "Well, we can room together on roadies and as long as we're quiet, that shouldn't be a problem. So that's an option."

Whiskey tilts his head slightly. "How we will get Lardo to agree without…telling her anything?"

"You're taking that biology class, right? I took it last year and you have questions about your homework and I've been helping you."

A slow smile begins to grow on the younger boy's face. "And we don't want to bug our roommate if things start to run late."

"Pretty much, yeah." Dex's grin matches his.

"Of course, if we start spending time together beyond that, we'll need something else to talk about," Whiskey muses. "Because then it would make sense that we started with my homework and then it progressed from there."

"Hiding in plain sight?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Well, you know what they say about the best lies…" The redhead mumbles before finally tearing his gaze away from the freshman and scanning the room for something to use as a springboard for a believable friendship. Whiskey doesn’t have a lot of personal touches out—his wall decorations are his signed Zimmermann jersey and a poster of the Buffalo Beauts with what looks like the entire team’s signatures. There is a shadow box of his pucks (the usual first goal, first hat trick, first shootout, and so forth) on the shelf above his laptop next to a pothos. There’s a small shelf with movies on it and a few books under that, so Dex checks those out; he smiles slightly when he reads the movie titles. "I think we'll be okay—you have _The Avengers_ and _Star Wars_ and _Without a Clue_ ; we'll have something to work with."

"You know _Without a Clue_?"

Dex shrugs. "I like Michael Caine and Sherlock Holmes."

"Which Holmes story is your favourite?"

"Story or novel?"

"Both."

"Novel would have to be _The Hound of Baskervilles_ , I think. For story…" The defenceman thinks for a moment. "Probably 'The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb' or 'The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton'," he says.

Whiskey's grin is small, but sincere. "You didn't pick 'A Scandal in Bohemia'; this could definitely work."

"Good. Now it's my turn for an important question: Which Avenger is your favourite?"

"Probably Falcon, but I prefer the X-Men to the Avengers," the younger boy replies.

"Oh, we're going to have things to _talk_ about," Dex says. "So I think we're going to fine."

The shorter teen looks at him like he's something special and the redhead has to duck his head, ears darkening, because he _isn't_. All he's doing is trying to not to waste an amazing opportunity—who _wouldn't_ want to be with Whiskey, even if it has to be a bit of a covert operation?

Besides, for some odd, inexplicable reason, Whiskey's interested in being with _him_. It makes no sense, but Dex doesn't want to question it; if he does, the forward might realise his mistake and drop Dex like a hot potato.

"Want me to streamline your computer or anything before I go?" The taller boy asks. "I mean, so if someone asks, I can truthfully say I did something."

A pretty brown eyebrow arches. "And that would be important because…?"

"Well…I'm not a very good liar," Dex admits. "And like I said earlier, the best lies are the ones that are mostly true."

A speculative expression crosses the freshman's face. "Huh," he says. He doesn't say anything more, but he does boot up his laptop.

Whiskey catches Dex's arm right before he sits down. When the taller boy stops and looks down at him, he rises up on to the balls of his feet so he can kiss Dex softly. "My roommate will get back soon and I wanted to do that before he does."

Dex curls one hand around Whiskey's waist before returning the kiss sweetly. "Okay," he mutters, forcing himself to step away when it starts to get heated. "Computer."

"Yeah," the younger teen agrees before pressing in and kissing Dex again. He does pull away after a moment and is obviously reluctant to put space between them.

Dex has to curl his hands into fists so he doesn't reach out and yank the chestnut-haired forward back against him. _Computer_ , he reminds himself and sits down.

But when he steals a glance out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Whiskey has a small, private smile on and he feels his heart beat a little faster.

He's going to date Whiskey. It's not going to be easy, but Dex has a feeling it will be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Dating Dex is a mistake.

A _huge_ mistake.

Because now? Now Connor wants what he can't have like he's _never_ wanted before. Now he wants to hold hands on the way to breakfast after practice, and quick goodbye kisses, and cuddling during movies, and hickeys on his neck, and spending every night together.

And he can't have _any_ of that.

He's had relationships before, and there had been a few that were probably even serious, but Dex? Dex is _different_. Connor's never craved the casual intimacies or small public displays of affection in the past, but that's changed. Now he wants those things almost more than he wants sex.

And don't get him wrong—the sex is _fantastic_. _Amazing_. Utterly _incredible_. He's never had a lover as attentive or generous or sweet as the redhead, but it would be nice not to have to worry about a roommate or teammate catching them. Honestly, if Dex’s roommate didn’t go home most weekends and if they didn’t have roadies, Connor would have gone mad by this point.

But it’s not enough. Dex makes Connor want to be _careless_.

And he can’t afford to be; he’s gotten this far by _being_ careful and not throwing it all to the wind.

It’s hard—harder than it has any right being.

It doesn’t get any easier every time he finds bags of baked goods in his backpack or his hockey bag; or when the redhead says things like ‘hey, Ollie and Wicks and the orchestra are playing Górecki’s _Symphony No. 3_ tomorrow—wanna go and support them?’; or 'did you see—there's a course next semester on whether Doyle was being progressive or regressive with Holmes; we should take it and help each other study'; or when Dex shows up to his room with desk organiser he’d made himself because Connor had complained how his desk drawer had no good way to keep things tidy and easy to find two days ago. It’s hard not to kiss Dex where everyone can see when he does things like sorts all of Connor’s socks because the shorter boy _hates_ doing that, and then comes by the next day with plastic rings for said socks so the freshman will never have to sort them again if he doesn’t want to. It’s hateful how Connor can’t tell everyone how when he got the Cold of Doom, the older boy brought him soup and honeyed tea and boxes of tissues and cold medicine, and did things like removing all the used tissues and changing Connor’s sheets when they got gross.

Nobody can know how Dex kisses the freshman—like it’s the _best_ thing that’s ever happened to the sophomore, every time. It can’t be known by anyone how Dex shares in the shorter boy’s love for Marvel Comics and Star Wars and Sherlock Holmes stories. Connor can’t share how pampered and special and _wanted_ Dex makes him feel; the redhead doesn’t treat him as if he’s the only person in the world—he treats Connor as if he’s the only person in the world that _matters_.

Instead, Connor is hatefully _cautious_. He never touches Dex for longer than he has to any time in they’re in public, even if he thinks they might be alone. He doesn’t chew out Nursey when the d-man says something that the forward knows that bugs his boyfriend. He doesn’t catch those pretty amber eyes. He keeps conversations to the point and light whenever they’re not behind closed doors. He doesn’t rearrange his schedule so he can catch glimpses of the tall redhead between classes. He tries not to text Dex every little detail of his life and does not perk up when Dex reciprocates. He doesn’t tell his invasive and duplicitous cousins where to shove it when they make a disparaging comment about homosexuals or the other ninety-nine percent of the population or the Samwell Men’s Hockey team.

But it’s for Dex as much as it’s for Connor. If it was just him, it wouldn't matter so much if he accidently outed himself, because it would only affect him. Now, if he came out, he’d lose everything, and his family would find a way to take Dex down as well; they were a conniving bunch of bloodsuckers who would have no compunctions about using their clout to get Dex’s scholarships revoked or ruining his career chances or embroiling him in enough scandalous speculation that he’d never be able to step outside ever again.

Dex doesn’t deserve that. He’s kind and smart and skilled and loyal and dependable and talented and hard-working and sweet and hot and worth a trillion of Connor’s stifling and too-rich family, at _least_.

So Connor does _not_ go home for the holidays and say ‘I’ve met the man I want to marry and he’s so amazing that I can’t even.’ He tries to stay out of the backstabbing and the grubbing for favour from his grandparents as much as he can. He hides in the family library with his cousin Holly—the only one of his cousins that he actually likes—and _aches_ for Dex.

He counts down first the days and then the hours until he can go back to Samwell and see his incredible boyfriend again. He nearly gets reduced to counting the minutes as his parents waste his time by reminding him to fawn over his grandmother again because her love and favour have _conditions_ and he doesn't want to _lose_ her respect and support, now _does_ he?

And they want him to think about possibly writing Great-Aunt Linda and her husband, and Great-Uncle Ned, but only because it never hurts to butter up old rich relatives that will probably die soon anyways (Connor would write them, not for the reasons his parents wanted him to, but because they were genuinely cool people and he liked them).

Connor texts Dex as soon as he gets his parents to leave; his roommate won't be back for another two days and Dex's doesn't plan to come back until right before the semester starts, so there might actually some _sleepovers_ on days when there isn't a roadie.

God, the very idea is making Connor dizzy with want.

Dex doesn't immediately respond, which frustrating, but understandable; last the forward heard, Dex was two-thirds of the way back, so he's probably still driving. Since Dex refuses to look at his phone in any way, shape, or form when he's on the road, the shorter boy is just going to have to be patient.

He makes good use of his time by making sure he has enough condom and lube as well as prepping himself so his boyfriend doesn't have to waste any time on that—they can get straight to main event and Connor's hands shake with anticipation.

The rest of the wait is agonising. His body is thrumming with so much energy he can barely sit still. He tries reading, doing sit-ups and push-ups, and watching a few episodes of _X-Men_ , but nothing helps. All he can think is _Soon, Dex will be here. I'll see Dex soon. He'll be touching me soon. Soon, soon, soon!_

His phone rings and Connor dives for it.

"Come and let me in," Dex's voice washes over him. "I'm out front and I got us a pizza."

It takes everything Connor has and more not to fling himself at the tall teen when he sees him standing outside. He actively has to curl his fingers around the edge of his shirt to keep them from reaching out.

It helps, slightly, when he notices that Dex is holding the pizza box so tightly that he's crushing the sides; at least Connor isn't the only one finding the walk back to his room without touching intolerable.

The pizza is tossed on the nearest flat surface (Connor’s roommate’s desk) the moment the door is locked and Dex doesn’t bother to take off his hat or boots or coat; he simply drops his duffle bag as he surges forwards.

Connor meets him halfway, throwing his arms around the taller redhead’s neck and opening his mouth under Dex’s immediately. His whole body instantly comes to life and _how_ did he survive all of winter break without this? _HOW?_

They kiss and kiss and _kiss_ , and then Dex is hefting the smaller teen up so he can pin him against the wall. In any other circumstance, the younger one would be embarrassed with the needy, aroused sound he made, but right now, he’s too turned on to care. He wraps his legs around Dex’s waist and thrusts forwards unevenly. He nearly sobs when the other teen’s hips buck up in response.

They thrust urgently against each other, and they finish in a ridiculously short amount of time and if it wasn’t so good to have Dex in his arms again and pressed up against him, Connor might have minded. But Dex is here, gently nuzzling him and murmuring about how much the defenceman missed him, so it doesn't matter.

Eventually, Dex lets him down. Connor whines slightly, but the other boy soothes him with a slow kiss.

Dex pulls back slightly and smiles a bit crookedly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Connor replies, glowing. He curls his fingers under Dex’s scarf. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I didn’t even get a chance to take off my coat,” the older boy teases gently. “And now I’ve ruined my underwear.”

"I guess you'll just have to take them off."

"You'll have to do the same." Dex's mouth is luxuriant and lazy, and Connor wants to imbibe until he's intoxicated.

"Okay," the redhead finally says, stepping back. "My underwear is getting gross and I'm overheating."

The younger boy sighs, but doesn't argue. His own undergarments are starting to be uncomfortable and if he backs away, Dex can remove layers of clothing so Connor will have more access to all that fabulously freckled skin.

It doesn't take the shorter teen long to change and clean himself up, unlike Dex, who has to remove boots and winter gear, and who makes some pretty funny faces when he had to bend down again to dig in his duffle bag.

Connor admires his lover's ass as Dex changes; it's a thing of beauty, all hard, gorgeous muscles and soft, freckled skin. Maybe later, Dex will want to be fingered, but only _after_ he fucks Connor into the mattress a few times. It's been nearly two full weeks since the teen has had his boyfriend inside him and he sure as hell didn't spend that time prepping himself for _nothing_.

Dex catches him watching and it's endearing how he still blushes.

“So I see that you were being a bit presumptuous, bringing an entire duffle bag,” Connor says lightly after a few minutes of enjoying how hot his boyfriend is.

“Not presuming anything.” Dex stuffs his stained boxer briefs into a bag before tucking it back into his duffle. He straightens up. “I just haven’t had a chance to drop it off at my room yet. Fortunately, it turns out.”

The shorter teen’s heart is suddenly pounding in his chest. “Oh? Have to be somewhere, Poindexter?”

Ears turn red. “I hadn’t seen you in two weeks,” Dex mumbles. “I missed you. It seemed like the better option.”

Connor almost lunges at the taller boy.

They manage to make it to the bed this time, and somehow, they have enough presence of mind to get their underwear out of the way before Dex wraps his wonderfully large, rough hand around them both.

The pizza is ice cold by the time they get to it.

They watch a few episodes of _Star Wars: Rebels_ while they eat the re-heated pizza, curled up against each other. They make fun of Ezra (whom they both agree is a tool), and cheer on Kanan, and debate whether the creators have a bigger hard-on for Thrawn or Darth Maul (Connor is for the former, Dex for the latter).

For the first time in two weeks, Connor feels like he’s home.

When they finish up the pizza and the episode that they were on, Connor shuts his laptop and shoves the pizza box off of his bed before pushing Dex back and straddling him. "So," he says, voice husky as he leans over that amazingly strong chest. "I had _so much_ time to fill while I was waiting for you. So I tried to make the most of it and I am _all_. Ready. For. You."

Dex's eyes widen, and then almost all the gold vanishes as they darken. "Yeah?" He asks, a bit unevenly.

"Well, I _might_ need to be stretched and lubed again…" The shorter teen flexes his hips in a slow, sinuous roll. "And I _might_ need some help doing it."

Powerful hands gently begin to work their way under his shirt. “Okay. I guess…I mean… _yeah_.” Dex has that reverential expression on his face again, the one that makes the other boy feel like the most amazing thing to ever have existed.

A warm shudder runs through Connor’s body. Dex never fails in making him feel desirable and gorgeous, and he had to go _two weeks_ without this, with people treated him like currency or a game piece.

He leans forwards and helps yank off his shirt before covering his boyfriend’s mouth eagerly. They kiss, slower than they had earlier, but still just as hungrily. And if they don’t pause here soon, Connor will never get Dex naked because the freckled boy will be too distracted with the freshman’s body and pleasure to care about his own (and isn’t _that_ an arousing fact!).

So even though it feels like the worse idea he’s ever had, he pulls away. “Strip,” he orders, the word undermined by how breathless he is.

It helps when Dex’s bark of laughter is equally breathy. “Are you gonna give me some incentive?" He asks, callused hands still greedily touching every part of the shorter teen's skin.

"Get naked or we can't fuck," the chestnut-haired boy says. "And I don't want all the work I did earlier to go to waste."

"Yeah, that's incentive." Dex grabs his hips and rolls them before pulling off his shirt and wriggling out of his sleeping pants and underwear. "C'mon, you do the same."

Connor does not need to be told twice.

Someone makes a pained noise of want when they come back together, skin to skin, and if it wasn't the younger teen, he completely understands the sentiment. It's good, _so_ good.

"God, get your fingers _in_ me," the freshman demands between delightfully messy kisses. "I've been _empty_ for _too long_ and I _need_ you—"

Dex rips away and fumbles madly for a glove and the lube. Because he's an asshole who _cares_ about Connor's comfort, he tucks the lube under his arm to start warming it up as he pulls on a glove and he's _not_ just pushing his fingers in where they _belong_.

“ _C’mon_ ,” Connor moans.

Dex shushes him before biting down on his clavicle. The shorter player nearly yowls and then really does wail when fingers push inside him firmly.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, _yes_!” He almost babbles, nerve endings alight and skin singing with the sensation. “God, _more! Please!_ ”

“You feel so good,” the redhead mumbles before getting to work on another bruise. "I missed you _so_ much, you have no idea."

"Can't… _fuck_ …can't be more than I missed you. _Yeah_ , do that _again!_ "

Instead of obeying, Dex pulls away, yanking off the glove. The freshman would be annoyed, except Dex is shakily unwrapping a condom and rolling it on.

_Oh, fuck YES_.

Connor tries to spread his legs further as Dex looms over him, lovely and powerful. And then—

— _God_ , the burn is _amazing_ as the older teen pushes inside, steady and substantial. Connor clings to broad shoulders and nearly sobs in relief and pleasure. " _So_ good, fill me _so_ good, fuck, go _deeper_." He curls his legs around the other teen and digs his heels into a muscled back in an attempt to press Dex in faster.

The redhead resists and rests his head against the chestnut-haired boy's forehead, breathing harshly, as he finally bottoms out. " _Fuck_ ," he mumbles before dipping down slightly and trying to kiss the shorter boy through his sharp breaths. "Nothing compares to you," he nearly gasps out. " _Nothing_."

_Shit_ , that sort of thing doesn't _help_ and Connor is obliged to shove his tongue in the defenceman's mouth to shut him up and hopefully force him to stop being such a damn _gentleman_. He _needs_ be fucked by his incredible boyfriend.

Dex is panting as he begins to slowly pull out. He makes it maybe three-fourths of the way out before his control shakes a bit and he pushed back in, hard but not quickly. The younger one _whines._ "Dex, _please_ , god, I need _more_. _C'mon_ , make me _feel_ it like I haven't for _two weeks_. I _need_ you— _UH!_ "

Dex's frankly amazing dick punches the air out of his lungs with a solid, brain-shattering thrust right into his prostate. And _god_ , he doesn't know what he said, but he needs to figure it out so he can say it again—Dex is plunging into him sharply and it is _glorious_.

The redhead catches the younger teen's jaw with his strong hand and kisses him sloppily. "Beautiful," he mumbles between each one. " _So_ beautiful. Stunning. _Amazing_. _Gorgeous_."

Connor, on the other hand, is being reduced to filthy babblings as he arches up and claws at the broad shoulders above him. His orgasm is approaching fast, but Dex feels _so_ good that the freshman doesn't want to come, not yet.

Except Dex's callused fingers slip down from his chin and curl around his scrotum, rolling his balls against hard-worked skin. And then the redhead's teeth find the meat of his shoulder and _bites_.

Dex has to muffle Connor's scream as he comes explosively.

Dex's hips are stuttering as Connor slowly drifts down from his high. He reaches up lazily and curls his fingers around the base of the redhead's skull. "You always fuck me so well," he murmurs breathlessly because the taller boy has a _thing_ for Connor talking. "Maybe soon, I'll let you skip using a condom and you'll get to fill me even more than you already do and after, you'll be able to watch it all drip out of me—"

Dex slams into him one last time with a choked sound before his body slowly loses all its tension and he collapses off to the side slightly.

Connor feels better than he has in _ages_ as he gently pets Dex's sweaty, strong back. It gets even nicer when the sophomore starts to nuzzle into him, large hands clumsily reaching for every bit of skin they can find. Dex blindly searches for his mouth and kisses him languidly when he finds it.

They make out gently until Dex's protective instincts don't let him anymore. Connor would be irritated when Dex pulls away before he's ready to relinquish the freckled boy from his body, but Dex always makes it up to him by cleaning him up and cleaning up the mess, and generally taking care of the forward as if he is the most important and precious thing in the world. Plus, once Dex is done, he almost _always_ envelops Connor and cradles him for as long as their time together permits.

There's a reason Connor is already thinking about spending the rest of his life with this strong, caring, magnificent boy.

Dex hands Conner his underwear before pulling on his own. He doesn't bother with anything else; he just peels the comforter back and climbs in, one arm held out invitingly.

Connor wastes no time getting between the sheets and curling up against that broad, speckled chest.

The redhead kisses the top of his head and tucks the bedclothes around them. His rough fingers softly pet the smaller boy's back and arm that is thrown across the strong chest. "I don't have words to tell you how much I missed you," he murmurs into Connor's hair. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me, and being away from you for so long…"

The younger teen tightens his arm, feeling his heart beating faster. "I know," he agrees unevenly. "It was…I don't want to do that again."

Dex nuzzles him gently. "We'll figure something out," he promises quietly. "We'll make it work."

The freshman enjoys being held and wanted for a few moments before he works up the courage to speak. "You know," he says, "it's the same…I feel the same way. You're the best thing to ever happen to me. I've never known anyone who makes me feel like you do."

Dex tilts his head up so their eyes can meet. He studies the freshman for a moment, and then he leans forwards, kissing the shorter teen as if they have all the time in the world, as if nothing else will ever matter.

And Connor knows that he's finally where he's supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's update might be a hair late, because I'll be away from my computer for a bit, so it might go up late on Monday instead of early. Just thought I'd let you all know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the weather changed my plans; disregard what I said last week and enjoy your regularly scheduled update!

Dex keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to wake up, because he’s pretty sure that he’s running on borrowed time. He’ll take it, though, for as long as he can. Until Whiskey figures out that he could be doing _so_ much better than Dex, the redhead is going to run with it. It’ll destroy his heart in the end, but maybe, if he’s really, really, _really_ lucky, the end will be months or— _god_ —even _years_ down the line. He really hopes it will be years, despite being a little concerned with how hard and fast he’s fallen.

Because he _has_ fallen and he knows it. His first and last thoughts are about the younger forward, and every other thought in between are as well. He thinks about the future with Whiskey in it and he has a hard time comprehending the idea that there could be a future _without_ the other teen. If he gets news, good or bad, his first instinct is to share it with his boyfriend. When he went back to Maine for winter break, he finally understood what amputees meant when they talked about ‘phantom pains’ because that was how he felt the entire time.

More than even that, he _likes_ hanging out with Whiskey. Don’t get him wrong, the sex is incredibly _amazing_ (the day after they got back from winter break, they spent it almost entirely in bed and it was one of the best and happiest days of Dex’s whole life), but being friends is almost better. They have conversations about everything, ranging from serious (what makes a good relationship, what is the U.S.A.’s responsibility to the world at large, and whether or not someone’s personal life should affect the public’s response to their work) to the ridiculous (how _does_ Psylocke avoid wedgies? If Rogue and Absorbing Man touched, what would happen? Who should win for Drama Queen of the Galaxy—Anakin, Luke, or Kylo Ren?). He likes playing games with the freshmen (Whiskey regularly kills it at Boggle and MarioKart, but Dex plays a mean Blokus and SuperSmash Brothers). Studying is better with the freshman nearby. Whiskey also loves being held and wrapped up snugly, and the times when they can just _be_ together, legs warmly entangled and arms entwined, are just…magical.

It’s not perfect, and it’s not easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. Hiding is hard and it’s definitely taking a toll on Whiskey. Dex isn’t good at compartmentalizing his anger while his boyfriend just bottles his all up. He has troubles letting go of things, and Whiskey can’t tell anyone in family ‘no’, even if leads to problems for him. Neither one of them know how to really ask for help. Dex has workaholic tendencies and has been working since he was old enough to hold a rake and push a lawn mower, while Whiskey’s never had a real job in his whole _life_ (he’s never even _baby-sat_ ). Whiskey has no idea how to budget nor how much living really costs, and Dex is perhaps a little _too_ obsessively aware.

But both of them try to communicate their needs to each other, and they’re getting better at it. Dex is teaching Whiskey how be more fiscally responsible, and Whiskey is helping Dex learn how accept _good enough_ on the less important things instead trying to kill himself for perfection on everything. They’ve had one or two real arguments, but everyone has those and Dex likes to think they both learned something from the fights.

The rest of the hockey team has noticed their friendship, and after the third time Whiskey asked for them to room together on roadies so they could study together, Lardo automatically put them in the same room now. Bitty has thanked Dex for helping Whiskey come out of his shell and to feel welcomed on the team. Nursey is deeply annoyed when he finds out that Whiskey and Dex are taking the Sherlock Holmes class together and he didn't know about it until his schedule was full ("you finally take an English class, Poindexter, and I don't even get a chance to watch you flounder? Rude!"). Chowder is so happy that Dex made a friend on his own that he can barely function whenever Whiskey is in the vicinity. Tango wants to know how they managed to turn studying sessions into such a close friendship. Ransom and Holster keep telling him that it's great that he's hanging out with Whiskey, and now he should do the same with his d-man partner, maybe do some similar activities with Nursey instead of the freshman so he can cement the d-man bond just as strongly.

Dex and Whiskey laugh themselves sick later that night when the redhead tells him of their captains' suggestion.

“If I find out that you’ve been doing the same things with Nursey that you’ve been doing with me…” Whiskey breathlessly threatens before falling backwards, roaring again.

“Aw, sweetheart, are you _jealous?_ Worried I might be stolen away by a pretentious hipster jerk?” Dex tries to coo before he also collapses with mirth.

The shorter boy smacks him, but is laughing too hard to say anything intelligible.

It doesn’t help that the next time that Holster makes the suggestion, Whiskey is within earshot and nearly chokes on his coffee as he tries not to outright advertise how hilarious and ludicrous he thinks the situation is, which only serves to set Dex off, much to Holster’s confusion.

Dex covers by gasping “can you imagine…Nursey having…conversations about…Cykes’s kink…for telepaths?” before losing it again.

“Or…or…or! Hawkeye’s…hot pants!” Whiskey manages to get out and he’s laughing so hard he’s nearly crying, not that Dex is in much better condition.

“Okay, that _is_ pretty funny,” Ollie says after a moment.

“Yeah, I’d pay money to see that,” Wicky agrees and fists bumps his friend. “Either conversation.”

Holster shakes his head. “Nerds,” he grumbles, but he stops bringing up the topic as much.

So it’s good. Dex has an insanely hot, smart, talented, gorgeous boyfriend who also has become his best friend (don’t tell Chowder), and he’s… _happy_. Truly, honestly _happy_.

They’re eating a late dinner after winning a game on the road when Whiskey gets a call. He excuses himself from the table to take it, and he’s gone for such a long time that Dex isn’t the only one who starts to worry.

When Whiskey comes back, his face is curiously flat and he immediately goes over to Lardo. She frowns at whatever he asks, but she get out the room cards (she usually hands them out after people eat; it helps minimise the number of cards that accidentally get left behind or that fall out of pockets they haven't been securely placed into). She questions him, but the forward just shakes his head and leaves the restaurant quickly and quietly.

"Is Whiskey okay?" God bless Tango and his vocal curiosity. "Isn't he hungry? Is he going to get the keys to the bus so he can get his things from there? Should we follow him?"

Lardo shrugs slightly. "He said something came up and he would like some privacy to deal with it. Dex, he also asked if you could grab his bag for him when you come up."

"Not a problem," Dex says and resists the urge to drop everything and run after his boyfriend to make sure that he's okay.

"We'll box up the rest of his meal," Bitty immediately announces, "and then you can take that when you go up."

"Okay."

It's hard to pretend that everything is normal and that he's not worried out of his mind, but Dex thinks he manages it. Since he usually doesn't talk much at meals unless he's arguing with Nursey or stressing out with Ransom, nobody considered it unusual that he isn't saying much. If someone does catch him in a distracted moment, he just blames his upcoming coding project from hell, and Chowder will almost immediately spiral off about it, while fuckin' Tango gets a confused look and says 'mine didn't seem that bad!' because _of course_ the little asshole had no problems and has already turned it in.

Dex's nerves feel raw when the meal finally winds down. He has to fend off Tango and Bitty and Chowder—who all want to come with him and check in on Whiskey—and he promised all of them that if he needs any of them, he’ll give them a call. He forces himself to walk at a normal pace to the bus and elevator and— _finally_ —to his hotel room.

Dex manages to get the card key in after much careful balancing of bags and food, and he stumbles in to the room. “Hey,” he calls out quietly, in case Whiskey is sleeping.

Only the bedside lamp is on and Whiskey is curled on his side on one of the beds, staring at the wall. He barely moves while Dex carefully puts their bags on the dresser and sticks the food in the mini-fridge.

Carefully, Dex sits on the other side of the bed after he tucked his boots by the door. “Hey,” he says gently. “Can I touch you?” He doesn’t ask if things are okay because it’s pretty clear that they aren’t.

After a moment, Whiskey nods slightly.

The older teen curves himself around the smaller, hunched up form, pressing his legs up so they rest against the back of the forward's thighs and curling his arm around the smaller boy's chest and shoulder. Dex places a delicate kiss behind Whiskey's ear before tenderly nuzzling closer. "I've got you, Love," he murmurs softly. "Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Just say the word."

Whiskey wasn't moving much before, but there's suddenly a new stillness around him. The redhead hesitates for a moment, but since Whiskey hasn’t said anything yet, he places another kiss gently on Whiskey’s soft skin. “I’ve got you,” he whispers again and holds tight. He hopes it will be enough and that he’s helping.

Whiskey doesn’t stir for a few minutes, and then abruptly, he shoves Dex backwards and turns. His hands catch Dex’s face and before the freckled boy has even figured out what just happened, Whiskey is kissing him.

And there is _nothing_ soft or sweet or seductive about the kiss—it’s all desperation and need and sharpness.

Dex finally manages to pull away and he has to grab the younger teen to stop him from going for another kiss. “Wait, wait just a sec,” he gasps out. He makes his boyfriend look him in the eye. “Is this what you need? Because I’m fine with that—as long as it’s truly that.”

Reddish-tinted brown eyes shut briefly and Whiskey draws in a shuddering breath. “I…I need to not to think for a while,” he finally whispers. “Please.”

"Okay." Dex smooths a hand over his boyfriend's cheek before he kisses his forehead. "Do you want to fuck me?" He offers. He doesn't get the same amount of satisfaction out of being on the receiving end that Whiskey does, but every now and then, he does crave it. He also tries to make sure that he lets the freshman know that he's open to it on a regular basis so the younger boy doesn't feel trapped in a role.

Whiskey shakes his head slowly. "I want to feel you deep inside me."

Dex feels heat flare through him and it takes a conscious effort to tamper down his desire. "We…we can definitely make that happen," he says and his voice sounds like it was dragged over forty-grit sandpaper a few times. He moves to draw away.

The shorter boy immediately catches his wrist.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm not going far," the redhead immediate soothes. "I just have to get everything because I won't fuck you dry. And"—he smirks, a bit self-deprecatingly—"I thought I might strip down while I'm still thinking about it, before I get too distracted by you."

The corner of Whiskey's mouth twitches up the tiniest bit, and even though the smile is wan and feeble, it _is_ a smile and Dex counts that as a win. "Fine," the chestnut-haired boy mutters, but lets go of Dex's wrist.

Dex gets to his feet and pads quickly over to his duffle bag. "It's not _my_ fault you're so distractingly beautiful," he says. "I'm only human." He glances over his shoulder, just in time to catch the tail end of an eye roll from his boyfriend and he feels better—he's pulling Whiskey out of his head.

He strips down to his underwear and quickly digs out everything they'll need before returning to the bed. "Which one do you want to sleep in?" He asks.

"…This one."

"Okay." Dex turns down the bed that Whiskey isn't in because he knows that sheets are one of the few things that get changed and washed every time in hotels while the coverlets and whatnots _aren't_ (he worked one winter in a hotel—he can never unlearn what he discovered during that time), and so if they're going to make a mess, better on the sheets than something else.

Then—because he knows how hot it makes Whiskey—Dex scoops up the smaller boy and drops him in the middle of the prepared bed.

Whiskey makes a small, aroused sound and his pupils dilate. His lips part as Dex climbs up next to him, breath getting heavier. His muscular legs start inching apart when the redhead begins to carefully unbutton his shirt.

Dex undresses his boyfriend as if he was the most precious gift in the world, peeling each layer away tenderly before dropping it over the edge of the bed to be dealt with later. When he finally gets Whiskey down to his trunks, he slowly lifts himself up over the shorter teen.

Dex holds himself above for a few moments, just to build anticipation before he carefully lowers his weight onto his boyfriend, covering him. He feels his heart start to pick up a little speed when Whiskey groans deeply in pleasures at the contact and his hips press upwards; the freshman is almost fully hard.

The older teen kisses the other leisurely, purposely not rushing anything. He ignores the increasingly pointed rolls of his boyfriend’s body under him and hands that grow more and more urgent as they slide all over his back and side and ass. Instead, he takes his time, first with Whiskey’s succulent mouth and then with that warm, perfect skin. He tastes and nips and caresses his way down Whiskey’s neck and torso, spending extra time on the sensitive spots.

Whiskey’s movements are jerky and starved by the time Dex makes it down to the graceful curve of his hipbone. He’s whining, almost brokenly, as the redhead starts to use his teeth with a bit more purpose now. Whiskey has to start biting his hand when Dex slides down further and leaves a line of bruises on the inner part of his gorgeous thighs.

The taller boy eventually sits back to admire his handiwork. Whiskey's skin is slick with sweat and while he has less bruises than he normally begs for, the ones he has are on the most key spots and will be positively _purple_ by tomorrow. His erection is straining out of the top of his trunks and dripping all over his perfect abs. His eyes are slightly glassy and dazed and have almost no colour in them anymore. The long chestnut strands of hair on the top of his head are tangled and messy.

Dex shakes his head slightly and gently pulls Whiskey's hand away from his mouth. "How did I get so lucky as to get you?" He murmurs before kissing the shorter boy like they have nothing but time.

"Dex," Whiskey moans, "Dex, _please_. I need you. So much. _Please!_ "

"Oh Love," Dex grins, a bit breathlessly because he can't help but be affected by the younger teen, "I've barely gotten started." He nips gently at an ear lobe. “You asked not to think, and I plan to take that _very_ seriously.”

“… _Shit,_ ” the shorter one gasps. “Oh _shit_.”

Dex laughs. "Let it be said that I take you at your word," he says before kissing his boyfriend again.

Whiskey pulls him back down when he tries to move away, shoving his tongue desperately into Dex's mouth. The redhead indulges him for a few minutes, but he does eventually put an end to it; Whiskey has asked to be driven mindless with pleasure and Dex has every intention of delivering. He can't allow himself to get too distracted.

So he peels himself away and carefully rolls Whiskey's underwear down his gorgeous and strong legs before tossing them in the general direction of their bags. He rips open a condom and rolls it down over the freshman's cock before quickly following it up by swallowing down as much as he can. He still can't quite deep-throat yet, but he's getting close.

It doesn't seem to matter much to Whiskey at this point; his head slams back into the pillows and he wedges his hand back in his mouth in a frantic attempt to soften his loud moans. His free hand scrabbles over Dex's shoulders until it finally finds a purchase on edge of his clavicle, fingers digging in deep.

Dex bobs his head a few times, just to work his boyfriend up, and then he goes for the kill. He kisses his way down Whiskey's erection and down to his scrotum, where he carefully licks it.

Whiskey bucks up so hard he nearly breaks Dex's nose.

Dex rubs his nose a bit ruefully—he should have thought that through better. He should have braced the smaller teen's hips because he _knows_ how strongly Whiskey reacts to any sort of sexual stimulation to his balls. He just has to plan better now.

So he pins Whiskey's urgently moving hips against the bed before he lets his mouth get close again. Whiskey whines, high and wanton, when the redhead only gently blows on the spot he licked. Dex teases for a few moments more before he mouths the sensitive skin again and his boyfriend nearly _sobs_.

Dex alternates his mouth and one hand (because, for some reason, the freshman can't seem to get enough of his callouses) until he starts recognising the signs that Whiskey's about to come. He pulls off and it takes the younger teen half a second to realise what just happened.

Whiskey immediately reaches down and Dex catches his hand. He braids their fingers together and pin the smaller boy's hand up by the shaved side of his head. "Nope," he says. "Not yet."

A shudder runs through Whiskey's body, and the debate of whether to keep using his not-pinned hand in his mouth to muffle the noise or to jerk off plays over his gorgeous face. He finally removes his hand. "Dex, _please_. I need you!"

The sophomore catches that hand as well and tenderly kisses fingertips. "I told you, Love, not yet. Not until I'm inside you, where I belong."

Beautiful rufous eyes shut tightly. " _Fuck_ ," Whiskey chokes out. " _Fuck_ , Dex! _Please!_ "

Dex shushes him gently before kissing that perfectly shaped mouth slowly. He can feel his own body protesting the pace, but he tells it where to stick it. He doesn't often get the chance to take his time taking Whiskey apart or to give him the intense, drawn-out sex his exquisite boyfriend deserves, so he needs to savour it when the opportunity arises.

Besides, Whiskey asked for it, and the redhead can't deny him, not this.

Dex kisses the short boy until he's calmed down a bit and is no longer wild with want. When the older one sits back to pull on a glove and cover his fingers with warmed lube (Dex had it tucked against his leg so Whiskey wouldn't have to wait for him to heat it up), Whiskey sighs in relief and pleasure, and lets his legs fall apart before Dex can even touch him.

"I can't wait to be back inside you again," Dex murmurs as he rubs the tip of his finger around the tantalising entrance. "You always feel so amazing around me and the look on your face… _god_ , you're so beautiful I don't know how I haven't been struck blind yet. I'm the luckiest person in the world because you _chose_ me."

Whiskey shuts Dex up by trying to see how far he can pull the older boy's tongue into his mouth.

Dex waits until he's got three fingers inside before he gets serious about things again. He kisses his way down that gorgeous torso and he starts to press his fingers against Whiskey's prostate, causing the younger boy to have to frantically get his hand up to his pretty mouth to silence himself.

Dex braces one arm across Whiskey's hip, and that's all the warning the younger teen gets before Dex's thumb starts rubbing his perineum and Dex's mouth drops to his scrotum.

The forward's scream is not entirely muffled by his hand.

Dex knew the response would be intense, but even he's surprised with how quickly Whiskey shoots to the top. He has to pull off quite a bit sooner than expected and has to move fast to keep Whiskey's hands away from anything that would tip him over.

Whiskey is babbling when Dex pulls his hand away so he can kiss that sweet mouth. His hips are jerking upwards, desperately searching for friction. " _Please_ ," he begs. " _Dex_. Please, please, please, _please_ , fuck, _please!_ "

Dex holds him down and kisses the words out of his mouth until Whiskey is no longer in danger of going off at the slightest touch.

Then—ignoring Whiskey's whines—the redhead quickly shucks off his underwear and the glove before pulling out a condom. He's barely ripped it open before his lover is reaching over and plucking the prophylactic out of his hands. Whiskey impatiently rolls it over Dex's erection, hands not completely steady. " _Please_."

Dex swallows hard and it takes more self-control than he knew he had not to linger as he slicks himself up. He climbs between those gorgeous legs—already spread wide for him—and has to take a deep breath before he lines up and sinks in.

_God_. Being enveloped in Whiskey's flawless body is every amazing sensation in the world wrapped into one perfect moment, every time. It is a pleasure that transcends everything and Dex is wholly convinced that a mistake has been made somewhere because it is clearly not meant to be experienced by lowly mortals such as himself.

" _Fuck_ ," he groans deeply. "You feel so good, Love, so amazing, _fuck_."

The younger teen's hips twitch up eagerly. " _Please_ ," he moans. " _Please_."

"Yes," Dex agrees, fighting to hold on to his higher thought processes. He pulls back slightly, and pushes in slowly. His head spins as ecstasy threatens to overwhelm him and it is almost _agonising_ to keep his pace measured and sure when all his body wants to do is rut until he is oblivious with pleasure. _This is not about you_ , he reminds himself sharply as his boyfriend writhes underneath him and drags blunt nails uncontrollably down his back.

He ducks his head and presses his mouth against Whiskey's to stop the flow of desperate words because he's on edge already and does _not_ need any help on speeding things along; if anything, he needs to slow down.

Dex manages to keep his movements strong and steady for longer than he thought possible, but it's worth it—Whiskey is almost a _wreck_ , needy and frantic like the redhead's never seen before. It's heady and erotic, and Dex's control can only take so much. He begins to push in deeper and harder, and Whiskey _sobs_.

The taller boy couldn't stop the next harsh buck of his hips if his life depended on it.

It's pretty much a free fall from there on, and Dex barely remembers to wrap his hand around his lover's erection before Whiskey's body _clamps_ down and then the younger teen _howls_ his completion into Dex's mouth.

The redhead doesn't even last through the next thrust. Pleasure erupts through every cell and everything goes white.

Slowly, Dex comes back to reality. He vaguely hopes he's not crushing his boyfriend because he is going to need a minute to get his muscles to work and there's _no_ way he'll be able to move before then. Next time— _god_ —next time, he'll try to make sure that either the smaller boy is on top or he'll try to aim so he's a little more off centre before he finishes so when he collapses, it won't be on his boyfriend.

Eventually, Dex manages to lift himself up onto an elbow and he looks down at the chestnut-haired boy beneath him. Whiskey's head is tipped back and his breath is still coming out in deep puffs. His eyes are closed and he's completely limp; he doesn't even respond when Dex kisses his pulse in his throat.

Dex tries not to feel smug, but it's hard. The possessive part of him is positively _preening_ over the fact that he was able to do exactly what Whiskey asked for—to the point that younger boy has practically passed out from the overwhelming pleasure, pleasure that _Dex_ gave him.

Resisting the urge to shout from the rooftops that _he_ satisfied this beautiful creature like he _deserved_ to be satisfied, Dex forces himself to slowly disengage from Whiskey's glorious body. He throws away condoms and foil packets, and wets a washcloth so he can clean them both up. He reheats the remnants of Whiskey's meal before he carefully pulls out fresh underwear for both of them. He folds up Whiskey's discarded clothing, and then he lifts his still-pliant boyfriend up into a sitting position so Dex can sit behind him and wrap himself around the smaller boy.

Whiskey starts stirring not long after that.

“Back with us?” The redhead asks quietly.

Whiskey turns towards him slightly, long eyelashes fluttering slightly. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. He tilts his head, clearly asking for a kiss.

Dex obliges him, but doesn’t linger as long as he would have liked because the angle has to be uncomfortable for his boyfriend. “I reheated the rest of your meal,” he tells the freshman. "Want to finish it?"

“…I guess. Thanks.”

He picks at his food, looking like each bite he forces himself to take is hard. Dex waits to see if his boyfriend wants to talk, gently petting soft skin as he stays wrapped around the shorter teen to keep him warm.

"My cousin Holly was caught making out with her girlfriend," Whiskey says abruptly. "And Grandmother has cut her off already."

"Oh, Love." Dex tightens his grip, as if he can protect the younger teen from this.

"And my parents are pressuring me to drop her from all social media because how would it look if I'm associated with…with someone unnatural like her?" Whiskey swallows hard and presses the side of his face against Dex's shoulder. "Her own _parents_ are refusing to have anything to do with her and they're making her sisters delete all her contact information. And I…I…" He shakes.

"I don't know how she's going to keep paying for college," he whispers after a few minutes. "Or what she's going to do about her insurance or her car or _anything_. I don't know what they'll do to her girlfriend, but I hope she's not someone reliant on scholarships or anything like that. I just…I can't abandon her like the family wants me to, but I don't know how I can help her, much less what the family will do to _me_ if they catch me." He holds on to Dex as if he'll be dragged away. "I just want to get through college and then it won't matter so much what they do or what they want from me. And… _god_ , I don't know what to do."

Dex holds his boyfriend and makes quiet sounds in his soft hair. There are things he can't fix and he knows that, but it's always hard when he runs into those things, especially when they involve people he loves.

"Will you feel better if you know how she's doing?" Dex asks after a few minutes of silence.

"I…yeah, maybe."

"You could text her or send her a private message," he suggests carefully. "Find out how she's doing, let her know that at least you still care."

The forward nods slowly. "Yeah…" He turns his head slightly towards Dex. "What should I say if my parents ask me if I've removed her from social media?"

The redhead chews his lip slightly. "Well, you can always say that you acted in a manner you thought would best suit the situation. If they press for a hard 'yes' or 'no', you can always say you acted in the best interest of the family, and isn't that what you always do? I mean, from my understanding, you've never deviated from the path they've set out for you, am I right?"

"I…not openly."

"So your history speaks for itself, yeah? Point that out if they push." Dex shrugged slightly. "And then make sure you change all the privacy settings on all your accounts and stay on top of every update so you don't get fucked over by a change to a user agreement or whatever."

"Yeah," Whiskey agrees slowly. "Yeah, I can do that.” He sets aside his food and twists so he can grab his phone off of the bedside table. He immediately settles back down in Dex’s arms, clearly having no intentions of leaving or wanting any sort of privacy. He types out a text, and then he tilts his head to look up at Dex. “Help me with the privacy settings?”

Dex knows that his boyfriend is perfectly capable of doing it himself, but he doesn’t protest. If this is Whiskey’s way of letting Dex help him, he’ll take it.

Holly has texted back by the time they finish with all of Whiskey’s social media, and from the sounds of it, she’s shocked that he’s not falling in line with their family’s wishes, but she’s grateful that he isn’t.

“Where does she go to college?” Dex wants to know as the shorter boy thumbs fly as he responds.

“Johns Hopkins.”

“Don’t we play in Baltimore in like, three weeks? Maybe she’d like to come to the game and you could hang out with her afterwards."

"I'll ask, and I'll tell her I'd like to meet her girlfriend," Whiskey says before dipping down and pressing a kiss to a freckled bicep. He glances behind him as he hits 'send'. "You'll join us, won't you?"

"Only if you want me to," the redhead replies, trying to tamper down the surge of joy and love he feels at such a show of trust.

The lithe body in his arms twists so reddish-brown eyes are looking straight into his. "I'll always want you to join me."

Dex catches the edge of Whiskey's strong jaw and kisses him slowly. "Okay," he murmurs against those perfect lips. "I'll come with you." He feels Whiskey's smile as he kisses him again.

Whiskey's phone vibrates before they can get too lost in each other. Reluctantly, the freshman pulls back and fumbles with his phone. "She says she'd love to. We'll have to hash out the details later, but it looks good to go."

"Good. Now either throw that away or finish eating it. I'd like to go to bed here soon."

Whiskey laughs. "Old man," he teases gently. "It's not even eleven yet."

"I didn't say I wanted to _sleep_. I said I wanted to go to bed soon."

" _Already?_ Well, I don't know that I'll be able to get it up for a while, especially after that last orgasm; you _really_ —"

"No!" Dex can feel his ears turning red, even as his feels his cock take immediate interest in the conversation. "I didn't mean…I wasn't implying we…I just…I want to hold you some more, without food or phones or anything. And you get cold so easily so…"

The chestnut-haired boy kisses him again. "Okay. You go brush your teeth and whatever, and I'll finish eating and getting ready for bed myself."

Dex huffs in mock annoyance, but does what Whiskey tells him to do.

When they both get into the clean bed, Whiskey drapes himself over Dex's chest, arms folded under his chin as he looks down at the defenceman. "So," he says quietly, "you called me 'Love' tonight."

"I did," Dex cautiously agrees. "Is that…okay with you?"

"If you meant it."

"Of _course_ I meant it! It's…what I mean…how can you…how could I _not_?" How could he _not_ be totally head over heels for this gorgeous, sensitive, amazing creature? Even Whiskey has to see that!

Whiskey watches him for a moment. "Okay." He pauses for a second, then says softly and maybe a bit shyly, "I love you, too."

_OH._

Dex catches the back of Whiskey's head, the short razored hairs prickling his rough palms, and gently urges him up. Whiskey follows the careful pressure and opens his mouth against Dex's almost immediately.

As they kiss, lazily and sweetly and deeply, Dex feels his heart overflow with happiness. Dating Whiskey isn't always easy, but it's best decision he's ever made in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

After what happened to Holly, Connor is extra paranoid. The reality that _this could be my fate_ hangs heavily over him, and only Dex's steadiness, love, and coolness in the face of a crisis keep him from going off in a destructive spiral.

Because of Dex, Connor knows he's in a better place than he would have been had this news come at a different point in his life, both emotionally and financially. He barely uses his credit card anymore, and when he does use it, he's much more on top of the payments than he's ever been in his life. His bank account and savings accounts (he actually _uses_ it now) are in his name only now; his parents can't touch them. He's less free with his money, and he now actually knows how to balance a chequebook.

And having some financial responsibility that comes with a degree of independence is an emotional security he's never experienced before. _He's_ responsible for part of his fate now; it's _his_ choices and nobody else's because it's _his_ money.

He doesn't have complete financial freedom because Samwell and hockey are too much for him, but with Dex's help, he's weening himself off of his family's money, and thus freeing himself from some of their stifling expectations and string-attached support.

It feels good.

When he writes to Great-Aunt Linda, he mentions that he's learning; Great-Aunt Linda's husband was very much a self-made man and she was a shrewd business woman who made her own fortunes, so he figures they'd appreciate hearing he's trying to be more independent.

He also mentions Holly's plight to both her and Great-Uncle Ned, in hopes that maybe they can offer her more familial support than he can. Since he suspects that Great-Uncle Ned might have some homosexual tendencies himself, there's the potential of sympathy and empathy there as well.

Holly does come to the game, and it's good to see her. The captains tease him about having a couple of pretty girls waiting for him, and Tango asks a million questions while Bitty fusses that he didn't know in advance, so he didn't bring any pie (Dex gets told to hush his mouth when he points out that it probably wouldn't have survived the seven-odd hour bus ride down with all the hungry hockey players anyhow). Lardo reminds him of what time the curfew is and that he had better check in with her— _in person_ —at the hotel before that point, and she'll hold his room key hostage until then.

Since Holly will be following the bus to the hotel so they can pick up Dex once he's dropped their bags off, Connor isn't too worried. Still, he nods at the appropriate times and lets the team make a big deal out of things.

It is a nice evening. They go to the diner that is a few blocks from the hotel, and Connor manages to really suss out how Holly's _really_ doing (not great, but she's figured out ways to adapt, such as getting a job and spending at least an hour every day searching for and applying for scholarships). He's not very impressed with her girlfriend—the girl was borderline rude and sullen the entire evening—but Holly's obviously besotted with her, so he makes sure that he's extra nice to her. Besides, maybe he's just not seeing in her what his cousin does; she could be one of those people who isn't good with strangers and has never been forced to pretend by her parents until she _appeared_ to be congenial and extroverted.

Holly raises her eyebrow slightly at Dex, but then she finds out that he likes the Star Wars, and she's sold. The two bond over whether or not George Lucas had the right to change the original movies, and whether he is morally obligated to offer the initial theatrical releases in some way, shape, or form, to the fans when the new, edited versions are released on to whatever new format comes next.

Connor feels better when they get back to the hotel right before curfew. He promises to stay in touch, and he makes his cousin give him her word that she’ll let him know if there is anything he can do to help her out. He’s glad to see that she’s managing to pull through; it gives him some hope for himself. If she can do it, maybe he could as well. Not now, of course, but down the line.

He shoves Dex down on to the bed once he gets back to their room. His boyfriend laughs when he climbs on top of him, mouth hungry and determined, but catches his hips gently and holds him like he’s precious.

Even though he knows they have a long bus ride in front of them tomorrow, he _wants_. Dex tries to protest, but Connor knows how to be persuasive, especially since the redhead wants it as much as he does.

He rides Dex’s wonderfully thick erection, relishing the stretch and fullness. Dex stares at him wonderingly, as if _he’s_ the most amazing thing to have ever existed, and not as if it’s really the other way around.

Later, after Dex has cleaned them up and is wrapped around Connor, the shorter boy presses a slow kiss to the soft freckled skin of Dex's inner wrist. "Thank you for coming with me tonight," he says quietly.

He feels a gentle press of lips against his skin. "You asked me to," Dex whispers. "Of course I would go with you." He speaks as if it is a fact—ice is cold, water is wet, and Dex would do something just because Connor has asked him to. It warms the forward from the inside out, this quiet declaration of love.

Despite having a pretty good season that had more wins than losses, they get knocked out of the playoffs fairly early, much to Connor's extreme disappointment. He had been hoping for something exciting like a championship win (or at least, making it to the Frozen Four) to write his Great-Aunt and Great-Uncles about, and to get his parents off his back about not brown-nosing to his grandparents to their satisfaction and not having a suitably rich girlfriend. Without games and practices to use as an excuse, it's harder for him to justify how he spends his time to them.

Connor has ten minutes left in his econ lecture when his phone starts to go crazy. Embarrassed and feeling his professor's judgemental gaze, he quickly silences it. It's his mother, so he'll go back to his dorm and call her right after; if she gets mad at the wait, he'll just point out that he was in class and isn't that the _point_ of college?

Strangely, his phone continues to vibrate with calls and texts for the rest of his lecture. He doesn't know what to think or why his mother would be trying so hard to get a hold of him—maybe his grandmother is ill or fell or something like that.

When the lecture finally finishes, he glances at his cell and feels the whole world slowly stop spinning.

Half the calls are from Holly and the single text message she sent says _CALL ME ASAP BEFORE ANYONE ELSE._

Oh _shit_ , this _cannot_ be good.

He all but runs back to his dorm and is grateful that his roommate is out. He locks the door and immediately calls his cousin back.

Holly is a mess, and she won't stop crying and apologising to him, and it takes him a long time to calm her down enough to get the full story.

He's numb when he hangs up and he stares at the wall blankly, trying to process what happened.

Holly's girlfriend purposely outed him to his family, having correctly guessed his relationship with Dex, and Holly says she didn't know that was the plan until after it happened. He wants to believe her—he _really_ wants to believe she wouldn't do something like this to him—but he's been in the family as long as she has, and he knows how the game is played. Divide and conquer. Play both sides. Power is information and holding more cards than everyone else. Talk out of both sides of your mouth. Above all, money and winning are all that matter. Do what you have to do to be the one who wins at the end of the day.

Whether Holly had anything to do with this or not, he knows that his relationship with her is going to be forever damaged; he'll still support her, but he'll never trust her fully ever again because he'll never _know_.

And that's a victory for the family.

Even though it makes him sick to his stomach, he calls his mother. She doesn't mince words. He will transfer to a college of his grandmother's choosing, he'll go on dates with properly vetted _girls_ and he'll marry one once college is over, and he _will_ cut all ties with everyone at Samwell—

"No."

The only reason that Connor knows that he said the word out loud is the deathly quiet from his mother. "Pardon. Me." She finally says, like she doesn't understand what he's just said.

He swallows hard. "No. I'm not going to do any of that. I'm staying here, and I've already met whom I'm going to marry."

"You are _not_ going to marry some little _trollop_ —"

"He's not some 'little trollop'," Connor snaps before he can stop himself. "He's the best person I've ever met and he's made more of himself than anyone in our family has!"

"That piece of common _trash_ has done _nothing!_ " His mother hisses at him. "He comes from _nothing_ and all he will _be_ is nothing! You think I haven't already pulled up every piece of information about your little perverted boy toy that ever thought of existing?"

“Then you know how far he’s already come!” He fires back, careful not to say too much in case she hasn’t found everything out about Dex. There’s no point in doing her dirty work for her. “Imagine how much farther he’s going to go with the connections and degree from Samwell under his belt!”

“It seems his modus operandi is going after good families and preying on their young!” He notices that his mother is changing tactics, which means he has scored a point. “He’s _tainted_ and _used_ you—”

“I’ve been gay my entire life,” Connor says harshly. “I’ve been attracted to guys long before I met him! And maybe you want to get your facts straight— _I_ seduced _him_ , not the other way around!"

And maybe that was a little _too_ much—he can _feel_ the waves of her fury radiating from his phone. "You do _not_ get to speak to me in that manner!"

"It's the _truth_ ," he retorts hotly. In for penny, he thinks, in for a pound. "I'm gay and I've met the person I'm going to marry, if he'll have me.”

“‘If he’ll…’” His mother almost sputters in disbelief. “You are too young to be making these kinds of decisions!”

“Funny, the government disagrees with you on that point. If I’m old enough to be drafted or to vote or to pay taxes or get a loan or be summoned for jury duty, then I’m old enough to decide which college to go to and whom I would like to marry!" Connor grips his phone tightly enough the glass and plastic protests. He only barely manages to stop himself from saying ‘I love him’ because he knows how well _that_ will go over. Anyhow, he’s given them enough ammunition already by declaring his hopes to marry Dex. "And you shouldn't lecture me on age and life-long commitments on because you got _married_ the day after your eighteenth birthday!"

"That was completely different," his mother says frostily. “I knew your father and his family, and I took no risk in marrying him. I knew he wasn’t some filthy, common little gold-digger, which the same cannot be said of your whore.”

“Do. Not. Call. Him. That.”

“You have two choices,” she continues on sharply, ignoring him. “You do what is best for the family or you are no longer a part of it. I would advise you to think long and hard about this, because he will not stay once you have no money, and then you’ll have _nothing_."

He lets out a slow, controlled breath. "I love you," he says finally. "And I hope you'll tell father that I love him as well," he continues to talk over her when she begins to name appropriate girls. "I'm sorry that you feel that it has to come down to this, but I'm going to stay here at Samwell and I am not going to give him up."

There's a dead silence on the other end of the line. "You are choosing _him_ over your _own family_." She sounds mostly furious, but there's genuine disbelief and shock there as well.

"I'm not choosing _anything_. I'm telling you what I'm going to do. _You're_ the one who is making it into something it doesn't have to be. It doesn't need to be an 'us or them' kind of situation."

His mother doesn't say anything for a minute, and then she bites out "after all we've done for you, and you're going to throw it all away, like the ungrateful and entitled _brat_ that you are! Do _not_ come crawling back to us when you realise what a _stupid_ mistake you've made!" She hangs up abruptly.

Connor ends the call and closes his eyes slowly. That's that, then. He is, officially, on his own, and he is terrified and hollow.

_Dex_. He needs Dex, _right now_. Dex will know what to do; he'll help Connor manage this horrific pain in his chest. He'll let the younger teen know that he is loved and not disposable. He'll wrap those strong arms around the smaller freshman and make him feel _safe_.

Connor calls his boyfriend, hands shaky.

Dex doesn’t answer.

He tries texting.

Still no answer.

Dex shouldn’t be in class right now; maybe he’s with Bitty and baking, or something like that. Connor grabs his coat and starts off for the Haus.

He walks quickly, making a list of places he'll check after the Haus if Dex isn't there. He hopes it doesn't come to that, but it's best to be prepared for all situations.

He's almost on Frat Row when he hears someone call his name. Tango crosses the street at a jog, waving.

"Hey Whiskey," he says. "Did you hear? Dex got into a fight! Do you—"

"A fight with who?" Whiskey interrupts, afraid of the answer because while his boyfriend is quite the brawler on the ice, he tries not to engage in physical altercations when he's not in a game.

"Some of the Lax guys? I'm not sure, but—"

"Is he at the Haus?" His need for Dex has increased in urgency and power. He _has_ to see him.

Tango gives him a concerned look. "Are you okay? You don't look so good. Did you—"

"Tango! Is Dex at the Haus?"

"Yes, but—"

"Thank you!" Connor turns and it takes everything he has not to break into a full sprint.

Tango scurries after him. "Do you know why he was fighting? Why would the Lax guys want to fight Dex? Aren't they your friends? Wouldn't that make them Dex's friends as well? D'ya think it could be just a big misunderstanding? Will Dex get into trouble for this?"

Connor doesn’t answer as he hurries into the Haus, and he hears Bitty fussing in the kitchen, so that's where he checks first.

His knees get weak with relief when he sees Dex sitting there, a bit defiantly, but it immediately transforms as he takes in the cuts on the freckled face, the split skin on bony knuckles, and the bruises on pale ribs under the opened shirt.

"That was fast," Dex says, putting down his cell and Connor's buzzes in his pocket, but he doesn't pay it any attention.

He wants to say _I'm glad you're not hurt worse_. He wants to tell Dex _I was so worried about you_. He wants to whisper _We don't have to hide any more_.

What he does is open his mouth and says "what the _hell_ were you thinking!"

"Whiskey—!" Bitty starts to object, but the younger boy barrels over him.

"They could have really hurt you! Whatever possessed you to—"

"Whiskey," Dex interrupts, far more gently than the freshman deserves, "I only defended myself. If it makes you feel better, they weren't prepared for that."

"So what, I should see the other guys?!" Connor stomps over and grabs the freckled hand that's not holding an ice pack to Dex's face. He begins to carefully clean the damaged knuckles. "Is being told that they look worse than you supposed to make me feel _better_?"

Dex shrugged slightly. "It makes _me_ feel better," he says prosaically. "It means despite the odds of three against one, I'm still the better fighter."

"Are you trying to appease your inner caveman?" The younger teen demands. "Or your inner silverback gorilla?"

The redhead wheezes out a chuckle. "Neither, but it certainly feels like a bit natural selection-ish, doesn't it."

"Um, excuse me," Bitty says.

"I can't take you _anywhere_ ," Connor complains, completely ignoring the southerner, but his hands shake a little as he starts putting disinfectant on the sophomore's wounds.

Dex hisses, but then pulls his hand away so he can catch the back of Connor's neck. "Hey," he says softly. "Hey, it's going to be okay. So they know; so what?"

The shorter teen bows his head until it rests against Dex's forehead. "They _all_ know," he breathes out, a bit unsteadily. " _Everyone_." He catches the strong forearm with one hand and lets it anchor him.

Dex takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay. So they all know. We'll make it work, you'll see. We'll make it work, all right?"

"…Okay," Connor almost whispers. "Okay." He closes his eyes and lets his boyfriend's calm and quietly confident aura wash over him. For the first time since his mobile started exploding with texts and calls, he doesn't feel dread or panic. He hasn't lost everything—he still has Dex.

He huffs out a small laugh. Here he is, standing with his boyfriend who just got out of a fight, and it's _Dex_ reassuring and comforting _him_ , when it should probably be the other way around.

"What?" He can hear the smile in the redhead's voice.

He shakes his head slightly, so he doesn't dislodge Dex's large hand or lose the point of contact between their foreheads. "Later," he murmurs.

"Okay." There's a soft, subtle pressure at the base of his skull, tilting his head to a better angle for Dex to lean up and—

Someone clears their throat, _loudly_.

Both Dex and Connor look over.

The majority of the hockey team is clustered around the door, staring at them.

Connor feels his face get hot and he doesn't have to look over at Dex to know he's in a similar situation. Even with that, Dex changes his position just enough that the younger teen knows that Dex is creating a physical boundary to protect him and Connor can't stop himself from shifting his weight so he is even closer to the redhead, helping closing their ranks even further. He also immediately puts his walls up and pushes all his emotions behind them.

"So…" Holster clears his throat again. "Is there something you two want to tell us?"

"Bro, they don't have to _say_ anything," Ransom immediately says. "It would have been less awkward to walk in on them boning because _that_ right there? _That_ was some serious couples' intimate shit. Like, married-seventy-years-to-your-soulmate-next-level of intimacy."

Dex's hand is sliding down and off of Connor's shoulder, and he catches it before it gets too far, braiding their fingers together like he always wanted to in public, but never had the courage to do so. "Dex and I are together," he says, probably unnecessarily, but it feels _amazing_ to say it out loud. The one good thing out of this all is he doesn't have to hide anymore; he can be free with his affections now.

Dex squeezes his hand gently.

"Really?" Tango asks, forehead wrinkling. "How long have you two been together? Why haven't you said anything before this point? Are you—"

"Dex is gay?" Nursey blurts out, still staring. "So all that homophobic crap was just you being all repressed and shit?"

Connor lifts his chin as he feels his boyfriend tense up. "Not everyone is lucky enough to learn how to ask the questions," he snaps. "Not everyone has a safe place to learn that. Not everyone has a family"—the word gets stuck in his throat and he has to force it out—"who will just take you as you are."

"And I'm not gay," Dex grumbles crossly, glaring. "I like girls just fine."

Chowder intervenes before Nursey can snipe at Dex any further. "When did this happen?" He asks, clearly torn between being hurt that he didn't know and thrilled that Dex has a significant other.

“The second kegster of the year,” Dex says.

Chowder and Tango’s eyes get huge, but Lardo speaks up before they can. “So that whole charade of ‘studying’ together during roadies—”

“Dex really _did_ help me with my homework and computer,” Connor swiftly interrupts, not willing for anyone to think that his boyfriend is a liar. “And we’re still discussing the Holmes’s stories for our class. It’s just…not all we do together.”

Ransom and Holster both snort in unison, clearly trying to smother a laugh.

“But why haven’t you said anything before now?” Bitty asks gently.

Dex’s grip on the younger teen’s hand tightens, and Connor takes a deep breath before answering. “Because it doesn’t matter now,” he squeezes out shortly, “if people know.”

“But—” Tango starts.

“Tango. Later, okay?” Tango is probably the closest thing Connor’s had to a real friend in years—not a fuck-buddy or a benefits-friend or a boyfriend—but a straight-up _friend_ , and he deserves an explanation of sorts. Connor just doesn’t want to get into it in front of practically the whole team now.

Tango frowns for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

“So, what, that’s all you’re going to say?” Nursey demands, eyebrows pulling in darkly.

“Yup,” Dex says before Connor can. “And that’s all, folks!”

“Nothing to see here,” the chestnut-haired boy adds.

“Move along, move along!” The tall defenceman waves the hand with the icepack in a ‘go on now’ gesture.

Grumbling, most of the teams slowly leaves. Nursey crosses his arms and makes a show of leaning against the wall while Tango pads over to a chair and flops down across the table from them. Bitty—because it’s Bitty—starts to bake something as Connor goes back to carefully patching up his boyfriend.

Nursey still looks angry, and Connor is willing to bet it has less to do with discovering that Dex is in a relationship with another boy, and more to do with the fact that _Dex_ is in a _relationship_ with _another_ _boy_ and Nursey was too slow and assumed too much and has lost out on his chance with Dex.

The freshman doesn't gloat—too much, at least—but he's glad that he didn't let the same assumptions keep him away from the redhead. He’d taken the risk, Dex had said ‘yes’, and now he had the most amazing person in the world as a boyfriend.

Nursey proceeds to be a huge ass and fines them like crazy, even though they aren’t calling each other pet-names or kissing (other than the one that Connor had pressed to the newly-bandaged knuckles) or doing anything particularly romantic or nauseatingly cute. Connor makes a note of each one, and at this rate, he’s going to run out of money before the school year is over; he decides he’ll give the asshole a week to get over his jealousy and then he’s going to do something about it; he’ll only put up with it that long because Dex really, really, _really_ wants that new dryer.

He also makes a note to ask Bitty if fines have to be paid in money and if he could do something like mow the lawn or wash the kitchen floor or something in return, because any money he has or earns is going to have to go towards tuition and hockey, and he’s not going to let Dex take the whole burden himself.

He finishes up bandaging up his boyfriend right as Bitty pulls out a pie from the oven. He wants to find a quiet place where they can be alone, but he owes Tango some sort of explanation.

Dex looks at him and understands immediately. “Bits, can we have our pieces to go?” He asks as he slowly buttons up his shirt.

“Of course, sweetie!” The small southerner immediately pulls out a few containers. “Don’t let them sit for too long!”

"Get one for Tango as well, please," Connor says and Tango looks up, surprised. He blinks a few times, clearly thinking that the 'later' that had been said earlier had been a bit of a brush off.

Connor grabs Dex’s bag so his boyfriend doesn’t try to do it himself. Gold eyes roll, but Dex doesn’t say anything; he just takes the pie slices from Bitty with a small ‘thanks’.

"Y'all take care now, you hear me?" The concern isn't completely masked in Bitty's brown eyes.

"We will!" Tango waves as he follows Dex and Connor out. "Bye Nursey," he adds as he walks by.

Nursey grunts something out and glowers at Connor. The freshman ignores him.

Dex leads them back to his dorm room because he says that his roommate was going to be gone for the evening, so they wouldn't have to worry about interruptions. Then he hands Connor the key and tells him if he decides to leave before Dex comes back—because, apparently, Dex is going to give them some privacy to talk—to lock the door behind him.

Connor kind of wants to press himself up against Dex for his consideration, but figures that Tango probably does _not_ want to see that and Dex is still hurt. So he is very mindful of cuts near his boyfriend's mouth when he rises to the balls of his feet to softly kiss Dex goodbye. He doesn't linger like he so desperately wants to, but he takes pleasure and solace in the fact that he _can_ do this now.

Dex gives his hand a squeeze and leaves quietly.

Connor takes a deep breath and turns to Tango, who has been watching them and is clearly doing everything he can to keep his questions from bursting out of him. Connor gestures at his friend to start as he unties his shoes and carefully sets them on the small rug next to the door.

"Did you really get together at the second kegster? Are you gay? Why Dex? Why haven't you said anything before now? Don't you trust me?" Tango doesn't completely manage to mask all of his hurt at the last question.

Connor carefully sits on the end of the Dex's neat bed and curls his legs up. He takes a moment, and then begins to answer the questions in order, almost mechanically. "Yes, we did. Yes, I am. Because Dex is hot and strong and the best person I've ever met. I haven't said anything before because I couldn't. It was never a matter of trust—it was a matter of preservation. I couldn't be out."

Tango slowly sits in the chair at Dex's desk. He tilts his head slightly. "Why not? Was it because of hockey? Were you worried about the team?"

"No, I was never worried about team. Hockey wasn't the reason, though the homophobia that's there certainly didn't encourage it. It's just…" The forward pauses before barking out a short, bitter laugh. "Do you know that today is the first time I've ever said the words 'I'm gay' out loud? That before today, nobody I hadn't slept with knew that I liked guys?" He rubs at his face. "I never came out before because I knew what would happen to me if I did. My family"—the word still chokes him a bit—"doesn't want something as ‘unnatural’ as a homosexual in it. So I never told anyone because the less people who know a secret, the easier it is to keep."

"Oh." Tango absorbs this. "What about your family now? Are they mad at you?"

"You could say that. I've been disowned and cut off."

“Are you okay?” Tango immediately asks, because for all of his questions and lack of observation and tact, he’s a genuinely kind person. “Do you need anything? Should I be doing something? Do you want the team to help you out? What are you going to do?”

Connor takes another deep, slow breath to keep himself from doing something embarrassing, like bursting into tears or shutting down completely. “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far. Right now, I don’t need anything from you, but thank you for the offer. I…would rather the team not know, for now, at least. Not until I can figure some things out for myself first. And…I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The last sentence comes out more honest than he intended it to. “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to Dex about any of this,” he tacks on and hopes that it wasn’t too much for Tango.

His friend chews on his cheek for a minute. “Okay,” he finally says. “I won’t say anything to the team. If you do need anything, you tell me, okay?”

“I will.” And—because Tango probably doesn’t get told this enough—he adds “thank you for listening.”

Tango _does_ blink, but he simply nods in response. “Do you wanna eat your pie now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Connor uncurls himself and gets out two of Dex’s forks before handing the other freshman a pie container.

Tango takes about two bites before he’s thought up more questions. “What was that fight with the Lax bros and Dex? Did that have anything to do with you?”

Connor pokes at his own slice. “Probably. Three of the players on the lacrosse team are my cousins,” he says finally. “And they probably wanted to curry favour with my grandmother and hurt me at the same time.”

“Oh.” Tango chews for a moment. “What are you going to do about them?”

“I don’t know.”

“I could punch them,” he offers.

“Thank you, but no. I don’t want to give them more fuel for their fire. Besides, it sounds like Dex already beat you to that.”

Tango smiles slightly. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

They finished the rest of their pie in silence. As much as it's nice to sit with Tango and it's glorious not to be hiding any more, Connor is barely holding on to his emotions. He _needs_ his boyfriend; Dex will keep him safe while he falls apart.

Tango finally leaves after extracting another promise from the other freshman to come to him if any sort of help is needed. The door has barely closed behind him before Connor has his phone out and he’s texting Dex, telling him that they’re done talking.

Dex replies quickly. _Be there in 5_.

Connor curls back up on Dex’s bed and tells himself it’s not that long to wait. He can make it for five more minutes.

He gets up a moment later. Dex will need an ice pack or two again when he gets in; Connor can get it ready for him. It will be something to do until the redhead gets back and will kill time, at least a little bit.

Even with the task to help his boyfriend out, it feels like it could possibly be the longest five minutes of Connor’s life. When Dex _finally_ opens the door four minutes after he sent his text, it takes everything Connor has not to throw himself at the taller teen.

He swallows hard and holds out the ice packs out. “I thought you’d need these again,” he says.

Dex neatly puts down the bag he is carrying on top of the microwave right before he pulls off his boots. “Thanks,” he replies and opens his arms. Connor does not need a second invitation.

He tries to be careful of the bruises he knows are scattered over Dex’s strong torso, but he needs to be held _so badly_ he’s not sure he is entirely successful. He buries his face in the soft, well-worn flannel and feels Dex wrap around him completely, enveloping him with Dex’s understated power.

He realizes that he is trembling when the freckled boy starts to make soft sounds to sooth him, murmuring into his hair. “Shh, Love, I’ve got you. I know you have to be hurting, but I’ve got you. I won’t let you go. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. It might take a while, but I will do everything I can to make this better. Until then, I’ve got you, Love. We'll get through this.”

Connor might be crying, but he’s not sure. All he knows that the pain he’s been trying to keep locked inside is bursting out and ripping him to pieces in the process. The only thing keeping him from being completely destroyed is Dex; Dex is keeping him from completely shattering and will give him the glue he’ll need later to try and piece himself together.

Somehow, the redhead gets them over to the bed and manages to get them both on it without letting go of the shorter teen. He doesn’t ask anything of Connor; he just holds him and allows him to let it all out, occasionally handing him a tissue or throwing away a used one.

Connor feels drained as his tears and shaking slow down. He burrows deeper into Dex’s warmth and debates whether sleep is the best option or not at this point. He finally decides that it isn’t, but only because he needs to talk to his boyfriend.

He slowly tilts his head up. Pretty gold eyes look back down at him. “Hey,” the redhead murmurs and does not stop the gentle drag of his hand up and down Connor’s back. He does not ask if Connor is feeling better or if he wants to talk or anything like that, and the younger teen is grateful.

He puts his head back down on the strong chest and spends a few minutes listening to the soothing beat of Dex’s heart. “I’ve been disowned,” he finally says into the flannel under his cheek.

Dex’s arms tighten. “Oh, Love,” he whispers. There’s a small edge in his words that make Connor steal a glance up; Dex’s clearly trying to hold onto his temper and focus on Connor’s needs instead of making a plan to find the younger teen’s family and punching them all for hurting him.

Connor feels a spike of love so strong it makes it hard to breathe for a moment. He’s never had someone who cared enough about him to want to harm the people who had hurt him, yet loved and respected him enough that they wouldn’t. He has to shut his eyes against the fresh set of tears he can feel building up behind his eyelids.

He takes a deep breath to centre himself, but keeps his eyes closed. “My mother told me not to come crawling back when you dumped me because I have nothing.”

Connor _feels_ the defenceman's muscles ripple in pure rage before Dex gets control of himself again. “I would _never_ ,” the taller boy says fiercely, “drop you just because you didn’t have _money_. I’m not with you for your inheritance or trust fund or whatever; I love you because you’re _you_.”

And Connor _knows_ that, but he didn’t know how badly he needed to hear that spoken aloud until it is said. The back of his eyes prickles sharply and he has to press his face deeper into Dex’s shirt for a moment. “I know,” he finally gets out. “I…I knew this day was coming, but I always hoped…I thought maybe, I could make it through college first or that they wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss me. I…she’s my _mother._ And she talked to me as if I was worse than a disappointment. As if I meant nothing to her if I didn’t follow Grandmother’s narrow path for me. As if the only good to her I was how much money and favour I could get out of Grandmother.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Dex rumbles. “I can’t promise that I’ll be on my best behaviour if I meet your mother or grandmother. I might get arrested for assault or something like that.”

Connor chuckles a bit wetly. “They’re not worth prison time,” he mumbles.

“But you are.”

His throat closes and it’s another minute before he can talk. “Still, I would rather not have to bake hacksaws in pies for you.”

“Fine,” Dex says, “but only because I don’t want you to get arrested as well for trying to help me escape.”

Connor smiles slightly, but doesn’t say anything. They sit for a few minutes in silence, Dex’s large hand still stroking the forward’s back softly.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Connor finally whispers. “About this summer, about college, about _anything_.”

“I might…could I offer a few suggestions?” Dex asks, strangely tentative.

The shorter teen looks up at him questioningly.

“For the summer…you could, you know, spend it in Maine with me. I’ve already talked to my pa; I still have to clear it with my ma, but I think it’ll be okay.” Dex speaks quickly, as if he doesn’t say the words fast enough, Connor might object. “There’s a town a few miles away that we could look at getting jobs at—”

“You…you didn’t have to come out for me. What about your uncles?”

Broad shoulders shrug awkwardly. “Well, it was that or not see you for nearly three months. It’s an easy decision if you look at it that way. I can always find a new job; my uncles don’t have a monopoly on the job market, especially not in the town over.”

Connor stares at him.

“And…next year…you haven’t picked rooms yet, right? I thought…maybe…since Nursey has already told me he’s completely not okay with me having my boyfriend staying over”—Dex has to take a deep breath to control his temper—“I’m going to make myself a space in the basement because I earned the right to be in the Haus as just much as he did; I’ve already talked to Bitty about adjusting the rent for Nursey and me…but…what I’m getting at…if you wanted, you could room with me. Next year. If you wanted. It’d save money for both of us and…we won’t have to worry about…interruptions or anything like that.”

Connor continues to stare.

Dex’s ears go violently red. “They’re just suggestions,” he mumbles after a few moments. “You don’t have to do any of them. Just…think about it? Because—”

Connor surges up and kisses the living daylights out of his boyfriend.

“Thank you,” he whispers a few moments later as gold eyes blink at him dazedly. “Thank you for giving me options.”

Dex swallows hard. “Uh…yeah. Not a problem. Think about it, okay? No pressure to make a call now. Take some time on it.” Even as he says this, his eyes remain glued on Connor’s mouth.

Connor kisses him again, slow and sweet and grateful. He probably will take Dex up on both accounts—god, living with Dex next year, not having to sneak around or work around other people’s schedules, waking up with those strong arms around him every morning, _god_ —but Dex is right that he shouldn’t just agree immediately. Even Connor can acknowledge that he’s probably too vulnerable to be making major decisions like that right now.

He tucks himself back up against Dex’s chest and breathes deeply. The future is daunting and he still has a lot to figure out, but at least he’s not alone.

“You still need to ice your face,” he mumbles into the worn-to-softness shirt. “And your other bruises.”

“I will.” Despite his words, the redhead doesn’t move; he just holds Connor tighter.

The younger teen knows he should probably press the point—there is no need for Dex to have his pain extended longer than it needs to be—but he doesn’t. He simply holds on and lets himself be enveloped; the pain inside isn’t gone and probably will never be fully gone, but it’s contained for the moment. He will, as Dex has assured him, get through this. It will be awful and he’s almost certain he’s going to need lots of time where his boyfriend holds him and reminds him that he is wanted and loved, but he will get through this.

One way or another, he will survive this.


	6. Chapter 6

Dex has just finished fixing the new storage space in the basement when Nursey wanders down. The poet looks over the newly cleared area. “I like the spartan aesthetic you’ve got going on.”

“Shut up.” Dex pulls out his measuring tape and begins to take notes on the dimensions of the space, marking things like where the windows and half-functioning powder room and shower room are.

Nursey watches him for a few minutes. “You know, this is all a bit extreme. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“It isn’t extreme. And I’m not proving anything to you. I’m respecting your wishes."

“It’s extreme. You and Whiskey might not make it through the summer and then you’d have moved down here for nothing.”

Dex hates Nursey for a moment for voicing his greatest fear before he pushes his temper down. “It won’t be for nothing. If Whiskey decides that he doesn’t want to be with me, I’ll have my own space to come to terms with it.”

Nursey makes a sound. “‘If Whiskey decides’…dude, you might decide that _you_ don’t want to be with _him_.”

The redhead snorts. “Yeah, _right_. _That’s_ not going to happen.”

“What? You _could!_ ”

“Have you _seen_ him? He’s smart and sensitive and talented and loyal and _gorgeous_.”

Nursey makes a disgusted sound. “And what, you’re ‘lucky’ that he graces you with his presence? You ever think that maybe it’s the other way around?”

Dex rolls his eyes slightly because he _knows_ it’s not the other way around. “By the way, that reminds me.” He looks up at his d-man partner, eyes narrow. “Stop fining my boyfriend as a way to get back at me.”

Nursey blinks, clearly derailed from his previous train of thought. “What?”

“Stop fining Whiskey just because you’re pissed at me. I don’t care that you’re mad, but stop punishing Whiskey in the process.”

“You think…because I’m _pissed_ at you?”

“Yeah, I think it’s because you’re angry. I know we’re not friends or anything, but stop being a dick to Whiskey. He’s done nothing to deserve it.” Dex crosses his arms and glares upwards, half-way wishing he was standing to make his position stronger. “If you’ve got a problem with me, take it up with me, and stop using my boyfriend as a way to get back at me.”

Nursey stares at him for a moment. “…I am not trying to use Whiskey to get back at you or whatever,” he finally says.

“Sure feels like it.”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it slowly. “Sorry. I guess…I wasn’t thinking.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t mean to make you think that.”

Dex nods shortly. He leaves it alone for now, but if Nursey doesn’t change his behaviour, he’ll push the point.

He goes back to his measuring and ignoring the fact that the other sophomore is just _standing_ there.

Nursey is the one to finally break the silence. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

“Yup.” Dex swaps out his measuring tape for some masking tape to start blocking out some general spaces to help give him idea of what the room will look like when he’s done. “It’ll be for the best for both of us. You’ll have your space and I’ll have mine. No arguments on who gets the room when or whether someone has a significant other over or not.”

“But it’ll be lonelier.”

The redhead snorts. “I doubt it. There’re four other guys living here, and people are constantly coming and going.” He sits back on his heels. “Nursey. Why the fuck does it matter to you? You made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to live with me. Hell, you were bragging to C that I’d move out before you and then the room would be yours. What difference does it make to you where I’ll live next year? You got what you wanted—Lardo’s room is yours.”

“I…it was never about chasing you from the room.”

“Could have fooled me.” Dex finishes up his tape mock-up and stands, examining what he’s done. Closet there, space for two closeted desks for private studying space here, and if he takes down the wall between the shower room and the powder room…

His phone goes off. He glances at it; being in the Haus basement has made his reception spotty, so he’s not too surprised to see that he has three text messages and a message. What _is_ surprising is one of the texts is from his Uncle Pete and the voice mail is from Uncle Frank.

“Something wrong?” Nursey’s voice catches him off-guard; he’s forgotten that the other teen hasn’t gone away.

“I don’t know yet,” Dex replies and starts up the stairs. “Don’t touch any of my stuff if you’re going to stay down here.”

Dex heads out to the back porch for a little bit of privacy; it’s still cold enough that most people don’t want to sit outside for long periods of time. Nursey hovers at the back door until the freckled boy gives him a pointed glare.

Dex listens to the message and spends a few minutes staring at his phone. Then he opens the message from Uncle Pete. He has to read it three times before it really sinks in.

Both uncles want to talk to him about working over the summer. Dex has to take a few breaths. He’d thought after Uncle Ben told him—abruptly—there was no room on his boat this season before dropping him on all social media platforms, and when Uncle Zach, Uncle Jake, Uncle Mack, Uncle Matt, Uncle Fred, Uncle Pat, Uncle John, Uncle Mark, Uncle Peter, Uncle Mike, and Uncle Stan had also vanished from Dex’s social media, that the rest of his uncles felt the same way. But now…

He calls Uncle Frank first because Uncle Pete is still probably on site and for safety purposes, only uses his cell sparingly. Uncle Frank actually makes a bit of small talk before he gets to business: He wants Dex to work a few evenings a week in his repair shop. He also mentions that Uncle Pete needs some extra help on some of his upcoming jobs, due to a worker being out. “But you better work out the details with him,” his uncle advises.

Then Uncle Frank drops the mother of them all. “Your boy,” he says shortly. “Is he coming back with you or is he gonna go home to his folks?”

“His family doesn’t want anything to do with him,” Dex replies and reminds himself that he can’t hunt them down and make them _pay_ for hurting his boyfriend so badly. “And I don’t know if he’s coming back with me. I’ve asked.”

“Well, if he does, I need someone to run the front desk in the afternoon. The job can be his if he proves he’s a good worker. Nick also mentioned that he needs some help with his hockey camps at the rink this year. Your boy plays, don’t he? He could spend his mornings there.”

Dex is so stunned it takes him half a beat to respond. “I’ll…I’ll tell him that. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

He can almost _hear_ his uncle shrug it off. “Let me know when you know. If I have to start lookin’, I’d like to do that sooner versus later.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks again.” He still feels shocked, but something unfurls in his chest that he didn’t know was tight. He says his goodbyes and has to take a few moments to let everything sink in.

He calls Uncle Pete finally and not only does he have a second job for the summer, his uncle has offered him all the extras that had been bought for a job, and then didn’t get used for whatever reason and couldn’t be returned. It’s going to save Dex a _fortune_ on materials for his new room in the basement. He makes arrangements to go up to Maine that weekend to pick them up.

Dex then gives his Uncle Nick a call, just to get a few more details about the camps that Uncle Frank mentioned. Uncle Nick wants to know if Whiskey is good with children; Dex doesn’t know, but promises to find out.

He texts Whiskey, telling him he has some news and that he’ll be in the Haus basement for a while. His boyfriend can find him there once his lab is over.

Dex has changed a few of his tape lines and is studying the new layout when Whiskey comes down. “Hey,” he greets the shorter teen and draws him in for a quick kiss. Dex always feels slightly awkward whenever he offers such small acts of intimacy, but Whiskey obviously _adores_ them to the point that the redhead has _no_ idea how his boyfriend managed to keep it under wraps and not give everything away when they were being discreet.

And since it’s such a simple thing and it makes Whiskey _so_ happy, Dex always swallows his self-consciousness. The utter joy that never fails to cross the freshman’s eyes makes it worth it, every time.

“Hi,” Whiskey replies, smiling softly. He loops one arm around a freckled neck and gently tugs Dex down for another kiss, this one a little longer and a little less chaste.

“How was your lab?”

Whiskey shrugs. “Okay. Neither good nor bad. Just there.”

Dex’s thumbs pets the younger teen’s sides absently. “I talked to Nursey. He should be easing up on you with the fines.”

Whiskey laughs slightly. “Oh, _that’s_ what he meant. I also just talked to him. I told him he either needed to fine me the same way that he fined the other guys, or fine the other guys the same way that he fined me, and I didn’t care which it was, so long as it was the same. He made some comment about you putting me up to it, and I told him how ridiculous he was being.”

“I’m sorry he’s being such a dick. I thought we were passed that, but it doesn’t seem that we are.”

The freshman shrugs again. “He’s an ass, but it’s because he’s jealous.”

Dex frowns for a moment and then looks down at his utterly gorgeous boyfriend. “Fair enough, I guess. I’d be jealous of me too if I was in his shoes. I mean, _I_ get to date _you_.”

Whiskey stares at him for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re so sweet,” he says. “But it’s not _you_ he’s jealous of—it’s me.”

The sophomore blinks. “Why would he be jealous of _you?_ ” He asks, a bit blankly.

Pretty reddish-brown eyes roll and then the shorter teen kisses Dex with far more intent than is probably advisable for the Haus’s basement. He pulls back a moment later. “You’re adorable, but you’re a bit clueless.”

“What?”

Whiskey presses their mouths together quickly. “We’ll have that discussion later. You said you had news?”

Dex swallows, suddenly feeling nervous. “Yeah, I have lots of news.” He takes a deep breath and says “so I heard from a few of my uncles today.”

The shorter teen’s brow furrows slightly. “I thought all your uncles had dropped you.”

“Yeah, I thought so as well. I mean, a few of them hadn’t, but Uncle Pete is notoriously bad with his personal social media and only checks it, like once a month, and I’ve never seen Uncle Frank _do_ anything with his, and I’m not sure that Uncle Nick or Uncle Saul even knows what social media _is_ , so…I don’t know, I just figured all the ones who hadn’t dropped me just hadn’t gotten around to it.” Dex shrugs slightly. “But Uncle Frank called me today and Uncle Pete texted and…well, I have a few jobs for the summer.”

The forward blinked. “Jobs. As in plural? As in more than one?”

“Yeah. Uncle Pete wants me to work for him because one of his guys got injured and will be out for most of the summer, with the P.T. and surgeries and whatnot, and this way, he won’t have hire someone just to fire them when the guy comes back. And Uncle Frank wants me in his shops for two or three nights a week so I can help out with the repairs while he trains his daughter in as a manager and in all the other business stuff.”

Whiskey’s face is curiously flat and the redhead doesn’t like it. “I see.”

“So that’s the first bit. Um, the second bit is Uncle Frank wants to know if you’d like a part-time job and Uncle Nick was wondering if you’d be interested in working at his rink and helping out with his hockey summer camps.”

Whiskey’s eyes snap up to his face. “What?”

“There were some job offers for you, if you, you know, you wanted to spend the summer in Maine with me. And I’m not trying to pressure you or force you to make a decision now! I just thought…it’d be another factor to consider. Or something.” Dex knows he’s running at the mouth a bit, but as much as he wants to be with his boyfriend, he doesn’t want his boyfriend to feel obligated to do _anything_. He’s seen enough relationships implode from that and he doesn’t want that for them.

Whiskey steps back and the older teen resists the urge to pull him back into his arms again. “Why?” He demands.

“Well, apparently, the hockey camps have gotten big enough that Uncle Nick can’t handle them all himself and—”

“No,” he interrupts, a bit sharply. “Why me? Why are your uncles offering _me_ a job as well?”

Dex blinks in confusion. “Because you need one? And you play hockey? And when you turn out to be good worker, they can rub it in everyone else’s face? I don’t know; you’d have to ask them.”

“They don’t even _know_ me!” Whiskey sounds frustrated, starting to pace.

“Um…well…do you want to change that?”

He draws up short. “What?”

“So…more news,” Dex says, feeling a little guilty because he feels like he’s overloading his boyfriend with information and not giving him time to process it properly. “Uncle Pete has a bunch of random leftovers and mispurchases that he’s willing let me go through and buy whatever I want for a really discounted price for my new room here. So, I’m going back to look it over and get it this weekend. If…if you wanted, you could come with me. Meet everyone. Give me advice on what to buy. See where I grew up.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “If you wanted?”

His boyfriend stares at him.

“You can totally tell me ‘no’ and to fuck off, and that’d be okay,” Dex reassures him after a moment. “I won’t be offended or hurt. I just…I thought maybe you’d want to meet everyone and to see everything before…you know, made a decision about the summer.”

Whiskey lifts one eyebrow.

Dex hunches his shoulders more. “I…there’s no pressure either way! And I will stand by whatever choice you make!"

“You’ve said that,” the shorter boy says, but his expression is softer than it had been a minute ago. “Couple of times, in fact.” He steps back towards Dex. “And you do know that I’d say something if I was uncomfortable or feeling pressured, yeah?”

“I know. I just…I’ve never done this before and I…I really don’t want to screw this up.” He hopes the _this is_ far _too important to fuck up_ is being conveyed.

Whiskey takes a few more steps forward and gently tugs at Dex’s forearm until the sophomore takes a hand out of his pocket; he immediately braids their fingers together. “I know you don’t,” he says quietly. “And if it makes you feel better to check in, I’m fine with that. Just promise me that you’ll trust me when I say it’s okay, all right?”

“I will, if you promise that if there _is_ a problem or I’m doing something that’s not okay, you’ll say something.”

“That’s fair. I promise that I will.” Whiskey tilts his face up and there’s nobody in the universe strong enough to turn that invitation down.

Dex makes a very gallant effort to not make the kiss filthy, but Whiskey’s mouth is sweet and hot under his, and it’s been _far_ too long since they’ve done something beyond a quick hand-job. It takes an enormous amount of strength to pull back. “Not…” He swallows harshly, voice already rough and low. “Not here.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey agrees and rises up on his toes to kiss Dex again, hungry and insistent.

“ _Love,_ ” the redhead gasps out after a moment. “I…not here. Not until I can get a door with a lock and walls up.” He wants to— _god_ , how he wants to!—but the idea of someone coming down and _intruding_ on them, _interrupting_ them, seeing _his_ boyfriend in pleasure and passion…well, it makes him feel possessive and primitive in the absolute _worse_ way.

Whiskey kisses him once more—a wet, lingering, sensual kiss that _does not help_ —before stepping back, his eyes dark and mouth red. “Okay.” He thinks for a moment. “If I say I want to go with you this weekend, will we be able to find some time to be together?”

It’s like someone dunked him in a barrel of icy water. “Not for sex. My bedroom shares a wall with my _parents’_.”

Whiskey’s face picks up a disgusted edge. “ _Ugh_ , no. Just… _no_. Way to kill my boner, Poindexter!”

“I know, right?”

“If I’m going to come live with you this summer, that is something I _demand_ gets changed in some way, shape, or form. I’m not going to spend my entire summer with my boyfriend and not have sex with him _once_ because of his parents being right there!”

“Duly noted,’ Dex said with a grin and as much seriousness he could muster. He pressed his lips to his boyfriend’s forehead quickly before squeezing his hand. “Wanna see how I’m currently laying things out?”

Whiskey’s answering smile is small and genuine. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

Dex is explaining what he’s going to do to the bathroom when Bitty traipse down the stairs. “Hello y’all!” He says cheerfully. “I heard Dex had finished reorganizing the storage area!” He steps back and studies the new shelves. “Well, ain’t that a sight for sore eyes! This is gonna be so much nicer come summer—it’s gonna make things so much easier for everybody!” He pats a shelving unit. “I like how you numbered everything!”

Dex shrugs. “It was the sensible thing to do. That way, everyone can write down where they put their stuff and we don’t have as much confusion of who’s stuff belongs to who.”

“I like it,” Bitty says brightly before eyes flicker over Whiskey, who’s currently cuddled up under Dex’s arm. For reasons that Dex hasn’t managed to completely understand, Whiskey doesn’t like Bitty, and from the way that the small blond’s shine dims just a little bit, he’s picked up on that and is as perplexed as Dex is. “Hi, Whiskey! Did you help Dex set this up?”

“No; this is all Dex.” There’s a hint of admiring pride in freshman’s voice. Dex squeezes the smaller teen’s shoulders slightly and feels Whiskey melt slightly against him further.

“Well, I’ll bet you’ll be helping him plenty with this room he’s talking ‘bout makin’!” Bitty smiles widely.

Whiskey shrugs. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Well,” Bitty says after a moment of silence, “I also came down to tell y’all that there’ll be pie in about forty-five minutes. If you’re not in the kitchen when I serve it up, you don’t get any.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting us know.” Dex tilts his head in acknowledgement. He waits until Bitty is gone before looking down at his boyfriend. “Okay, I know you don’t like Bits, but I could never figure out _why_.”

Whiskey sighs. “He’s smothering, invasive, and a hypocrite. He has to know _everyone’s_ business, but not only does he refuse to share anything about his own, he gets upset when you _don’t_ share with him. Even if you point it out the discrepancy to him, he _still_ doesn't get it.”

“I guess I can see that,” Dex says slowly after a minute. “Bitty likes to… _involve_ himself with everyone around him.”

Whiskey looks up at him. “I suppose this is the point that you tell me you want me to be nicer to him anyways?”

“I’d be a hypocrite myself if I told you that.” Dex shrugs. “I can’t tell you how to be with Bitty, just like you can’t tell me how to be with Nursey. I mean, we all could stand to be nicer to everyone, but that’s a hell of a lot easier said than done, especially when the other person legitimately annoys the crap out of you. I just wanted to know what it was about Bits that rubbed you the wrong way.”

The short forward narrows his eyes slightly and studies Dex for a moment. “And that’s it?”

“…Should I be saying more?” The redhead abruptly has a moment of worry; he’s doing this wrong. He tries to keep his approach to being a Good Boyfriend grounded in logic and common sense, and it mostly has served him well, but it has occasionally let him down (two of their biggest fights had happened because Dex relied too heavily on rationality and didn’t consider emotions).

Whiskey must pick up on his concern because he softens under Dex’s arm. “No, you’re fine. I’m just…usually, in my experience, these kinds of discussions aren’t so…straightforward and short.” The corner of his lip twitches up. “It’s strange, but refreshing. Now that we got that dealt with, what else are you hoping to do down here?”

Dex smiles and brings Whiskey over to another part of the future room, explaining how he wants to use barndoors to maximise space in the room and how he’ll insulate the walls better. He hopes that Whiskey is seeing himself living in the space with Dex next fall; he thinks of the easy domesticity that couples who have been together forever have and he wants that for the two of them. He’d like that for the rest of their lives, but it might be a little too soon for that fantasy.

In the meantime, he’s going to build the best damn room the Haus has ever seen.


	7. Chapter 7

Connor looks out the window and fights the urge to fidget nervously. The closer they get to Dex’s hometown, the more he second-guesses himself. Maybe this is a mistake. If Dex’s family hates him, he can’t put his boyfriend in the position of choosing between him and his family.

“Hey,” Dex’s quiet voice breaks through his increasingly worried thoughts. “Do we need to stop at the next rest stop?”

“No, I’m fine.” Connor glances over at the taller teen.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s…” He takes a deep breath because even though it’s Dex, sometimes the emotional vulnerability that a good relationship requires is still hard for him. “It’s just…I’ve never met someone’s parents as their _boyfriend_. I’m…scared…of what it will do to us if they don’t like me.”

The redhead doesn’t immediately reply. “That’s fair,” he says eventually. “Since I’ve never been in that position, I can’t help you with any good advice or anything. Does it help to know that I have similar fears? About what it will happen to us if you don’t get along with my family?”

“Yes. No. Maybe?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the road, but he does reach over with and gives Connor’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Well, whatever the outcome, Love, we’ll figure it out together. If they love you, great! If they don’t, we’ll see if we can’t live at Samwell in the Haus or something for the summer and we’ll get jobs down there.”

It shouldn’t reassure Connor as much as it does that Dex has a back-up plan or two in the works if things don’t pan out, but there’s a comfort in knowing that the older teen isn’t going in blind and has thought about how to make the best of a bad situation.

“Okay,” he agrees, catching Dex’s large, calloused hand and braiding their fingers together.

They don’t say much else the rest of the way, but they hold hands the entire time. Dex only lets go when he has to shift gears, but he always reaches out for Connor as soon as he can. It warms the tense knot in Connor’s stomach; it doesn’t get rid of it, but having that strong hand as a constant makes his nerves easier to bear.

It also reminds him that Dex is doing a lot of this for _him_. Dex came out to his very conservative family _for Connor_. He is building a room in the Haus’s basement _for Connor_. Public displays of physical affection make Dex self-conscious, but he does them all the time _for Connor_. He’s showing the younger teen his home and introducing him to his family because there might be a job or two in it _for Connor_.

Dex loves Connor and he works hard to show the freshman that, every minute of every day.

Connor has to swallow the suggestion that they find bit of empty road so he can show his boyfriend how much he _appreciates_ everything that Dex does for him. He forces the desire down; he had thought that once everyone knew, it would be easier, but they haven’t had sex since Connor came out. It makes him want to tear out his hair—what’s the _point_ of everyone knowing they’re together if they can’t be _together?_

He’s trying to be patient, because he knows it’s not Dex’s fault that his roommate is suddenly swamped as midterms approach and is refusing to leave the room; he _knows_ that one of the reasons that the redhead has started spending all his time working on the new room is so they can _have_ a place to make their own and to have the privacy to be intimate; he _knows_ Dex hasn’t lost interest in him sexually because there’s no need to sneak around anymore, but it’s hard to squash the negative voices (that always sound suspiciously like his grandmother and his mother) that tell him that he’s made a big mistake.

But he hasn’t had such a dry spell—much less a dry spell when he had someone to fuck him—in _forever_. It’s _agonising_.

His only comfort for the moment is that as soon as Dex finishes the room, the sex they’ll be _finally_ be able to have will be _spectacular_. And _constant_. They are going to have _so_ _much_ sex.

They drive through a small town and up a bumpy, narrow drive. Dex finally pulls up and parks in front of a ramshackle house that has architecture features ranging from the eighteen hundreds up to the nineties all making an appearance on it. He squeezes Connor’s hand. “Well,” he says, not quite as calm as he wants to pretend to be, “here we are.”

Connor brushes his mouth to Dex’s scarred knuckles before reaching up with his free hand to pull the taller teen forwards. He kisses Dex slowly and heatedly. “I love you,” he whispers against his boyfriend’s lips. “No matter what happens, I love you.”

The redhead makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, and tries to press closer, tightening his grip on the smaller hand in his almost painfully.

When he pulls back, Connor whines before he can stop himself. He opens his eyes and stares up at his flushed boyfriend from under hooded lids.

Dex swallows hard. “Um. We’re here,” he finally says, eyes continually drifting down to the younger boy’s mouth before snapping up almost guiltily.

It takes Connor half a moment to realise what the other one is referring to, and he feels his face get hot for an entirely different reason. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Gold eyes stare to slide down before flickering back up. “It’s…I get it, Love.” His thumb strokes the back of Connor’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go inside before we get any…ideas, and Ma comes looking for us.”

“Yeah. Okay.” The freshman pushes his desire aside and nervousness immediately swims in to take its place.

He grabs his duffle from the back and then he follows Dex up the uneven stone steps to the weathered porch. The redhead shoves open the door. “Ma!” He calls out as he drops his own bag and starts untying his boots. “We’re here!”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Someone yells back.

The worn wood floors are cool, even though Connor’s thick socks, as Dex leads him towards the back of the house. The rooms that he catches glimpses of are cluttered and small and a little dark, but look cosy. There are pictures, but he doesn’t get a chance to do more than glance at them as they pass.

The kitchen is bright and clearly very well-used. The two people who are working in the space are so _obviously_ Dex’s parents that it hurts. Dex, it turns out, has gotten his eyes, nose, freckles, and height from his mother, while his jaw, mouth, hands, and hair are unmistakeably from his father.

He kisses his mother’s cheek quickly and shakes his father’s hand. “Smells amazing.” He gestures. “Ma, Pa, this is Connor Whisk. Whiskey, these are my parents, Alain and Jennifer.”

For the first time in a long time, Connor is grateful for all the social training his parents have forced upon him. He steps forwards with no hesitation and holds out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms Poindexter, Mr Poindexter.” He sounds confident and genuine, and not like he’s about to collapse in a heap of nerves. He offers up his hand, looking them in the eye and smiling. “Thank you for having me.” He holds out a bag of coffee beans. “I would have brought wine but…” He shrugs in an easy manner.

“It’s Missus,” Mrs Poindexter corrects, but she’s not unfriendly about it. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a friend of Will’s. And thank you very much for the coffee; we’ll definitely use it.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mr Poindexter says, shaking Whiskey’s hand politely while the teenager is wondering if he should correct Dex’s mother or not.

“Do we have time before dinner for me to get Whiskey situated upstairs?” Dex asks.

“You do. Will, I set up the couch for you,” Mrs Poindexter says as she goes back to the cooking.

“Why the couch? I was planning just to use the air mattress.”

“You know why.”

“No, actually, I don’t.” Will crosses his arms. “You never insisted that I sleep on the couch when I had friends over before.”

Abruptly, Connor realizes what his boyfriend is doing—clearly, he’s told his mother that the younger teen is boyfriend, but if she won’t call him that, her son is going to insist that he be treated as a ‘friend’. So either she acknowledges Whiskey’s boyfriend status, or she doesn’t have a leg to stand on why they can’t share a room.

Mrs Poindexter narrows her eyes slightly. “ _William_.”

“ _Ma_.”

“Watch your tone with your mother.” Mr Poindexter frowns at his son.

“I’m being perfectly reasonable in asking.” Dex’s chin comes up and juts out slightly. “She never expected that in the past, and I’d like a reason why. She’s even said how happy she was to meet one of my friends—why, then, is she treating him so differently?”

“ _William_.” The warning is even stronger in Mrs Poindexter’s voice this time.

“Is it because he’s a guy? That’s never bothered you before.”

“I won’t expect you to share your room with a girl,” she snaps, a bit triumphantly, as if this will score her a point.

“Really? Because I seem to remember you giving Jacob your blessings to share _his_ room with Monica. And Kelly. And Shannon. And—”

“That was _different_.”

“True, it was. How long did he date each one? Four months? No, wait, Kelly was only three weeks, wasn’t she. And did Jessica even _make_ it through three _dates?_ ”

_Oh_. So it isn’t a no-sex-before-marriage thing (which Connor would have been okay with—it isn’t as if he is going to get laid this weekend, anyhow) that’s happening right now—it’s a homophobic moment. Dex had warned him there might be some of that, but he had thought it would…manifest differently, more along the lines of ‘it’s a phase’ or really awkward questions or something like that. He didn’t expect _this_.

“Young man, you are in my house and when you sleep under my roof, I expect you to follow my rules!” Mrs Poindexter glares at her son and _oh,_ _that’s_ where Dex gets his flat stare from! “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Dex turns. “C’mon, Whiskey. Come and help me set up the air mattress.”

“ _Pardon me?_ ” Both of his parents look up and both look torn between being furious and shocked.

Dex pauses at the door. “I’m following your rules.”

“By _blatantly_ disobeying me?”

“I’m not disobeying you. You said as long as I’m sleeping under your roof, I’m expected to follow your rules. If I’m _not_ sleeping under your roof, however…” He shrugs.

“And _where_ are you planning to sleep?” Mr Poindexter speaks up, eyes narrow.

“My truck, of course.”

" _What!_ ” Mrs Poindexter bites out. “You _absolutely_ will _not_ —”

Dex raises an eyebrow and pointedly _does not_ say anything.

After a few moments of intense glaring between the two, his mother sniffs. “Fine. Sleep in your truck. But I absolutely will _not_ listen to you complain about it tomorrow, is that clear?”

“Perfectly. We’ll be back in a few.” He grabs Connor’s hand and pulls him down the hallway.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Dex says quietly as he rummages in a linen closet and passes the younger teen two sleeping bags and an armful of heavy quilts. He pulls out two mismatched sheets before wrestling out a bin that looks to holding a bulky mass of folded plastic. “I mean, I sort of expected to have that argument, but I had hoped that maybe we won’t do it right after I arrived and in front of you.”

Connor opens his mouth to reassure his boyfriend and then shuts it slowly. It’s _not_ okay and saying that it is isn’t fair to either of them. “I’m sorry, too,” he finally says. “I didn’t want this to start off on a sour note.”

Dex leans over the pile in the chestnut-haired boy’s arms and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your fault. We’ll just have to make the best of things, yeah? The bright side is we’ll be sharing a bed and not a wall.”

The shorter boy swallows hard and wills his libido back, which has abruptly returned with a _vengeance_. “Yeah,” he croaks out. “Yeah, that’s…good.”

The look his boyfriend shoots him tells him that he knows _exactly_ how far into the gutter his brain has immediately gone. It would be embarrassing, but he’s getting so desperate for Dex’s dick that he’s starting to not care anymore.

Because he can see it—his legs high around Dex’s strong freckled waist, the older teen draped over him in the low space of the bed of the truck, their mouths messy and adoring as they kiss, Dex _deep_ and _powerful_ and _thick_ inside him—

“Boys! Dinner!”

“Be there in a moment!” Dex calls back as Connor feels much of his ardour wither and die. The redhead gives him an apologetic smile, as if he completely understands. “We’ll leave this all by the front door and we’ll take care of it after dinner, okay?”

Not trusting his voice to not give him away, Connor just nods.

Dinner starts under a very strained note, and the younger teen decides to do something about it. Determined that Dex’s parents’ memory of their first meal with him will _not_ be something they cringe over later, he asks Mr Poindexter about what he’s teaching the fifth graders in his class. He gets Mrs Poindexter to talk about her prize-winning hybrid pansies. He teases out all the embarrassing childhood stories about Dex that he can. He offers up harmless anecdotes about his own childhood that are safe to talk about. He convinces Dex’s parents to tell their ‘how we meet’ story.

It’s exhausting, but the tension has slowly leaked out of Dex’s delightfully broad shoulders as the evening progresses. Mr Poindexter has started to smile by the time dessert is served and Mrs Poindexter begins to try plying Connor with more food, informing him that he may be young and an athlete, but that he’s still got some growing to do and thus he needs to eat more.

Connor considers it, all and all, to be a success. It’s not a triumph, but he’ll take what he can get. Dex’s parents don’t abhor him and he’s managed to show them that he’s not a horrible person. They probably don’t like him, and they probably still will fight with Dex about their relationship status, but at least they don’t currently outright hate him.

When he stands up and starts helping clear the table, Dex’s mother gives him a flat look. “And what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Connor pauses. “…Taking things into the kitchen before I help with the dishes?” He offers after a moment. He can probably count how many dishes he's done in his entire life on his fingers, but Dex's mother seems like someone who would appreciate someone else making the offer.

She reaches over and pulls the plates out of his hands. “No, you’re not. You are a _guest_ and _guests_ do _not_ do the dishes.”

“But—”

“I’m sure that you must be tired after your day,” she cuts him off firmly. “If you feel a burning urge to do something, you can help my son set up his bed for the night.”

He has quick debate on whether he should point out that he’ll be sleeping there as well, but then decides that he’s pushed them enough for one night. Besides, it isn’t as if they don’t know; maybe this is her way of acknowledging it without actually acknowledging it.

It’s twilight and the temperature has dropped significantly. Connor worms his way under Dex’s arm while they’re waiting for the air compressor to finish filling the air mattress, looking for reaffirmation as much as he is for warmth. The way his boyfriend tightens his arm speaks volumes; the younger teen is abruptly struck with the realisation that he might not be the only one who needs validation and reassurance.

So he nestles closer. “I love you,” he mumbles into the fabric of Dex’s jacket.

There’s a short pause, and then a strong hand carefully cups his cheek, angling his head up. Dex kisses him slowly and when the taller boy eventually pulls back, Connor is shivering for an entirely different reason. “I love you, too,” Dex murmurs against his mouth before kissing him leisurely again.

Connor’s blood is racing through his veins when Dex gently eases back, and it takes everything he has not to tumble them down on to the cold ground. He reminds himself that they’ll be sharing a bed for the first time in _ages_ and that he has a condom in his wallet (he silently blesses his overly-optimistic past self); he just has to make it for a little bit longer.

He makes himself focus on helping his boyfriend finish setting up the bed in the truck. Dex picks the thickest blanket to lay down on the air mattress (“trust me, Love, you will thank me for this bit of insulation between you and the air mattress later”), and Connor zips the two sleeping bags together before laying them out on top. They smooth out a few more quilts over it all. It looks surprisingly comfortable and even a little private, since the uncle who had owned the truck before had tinted all the windows under the removeable curtains so he could sleep back there during hunting trips.

“We’ll grab some pillows from my room,” Dex says and Connor follows him inside, deeply curious as to what his boyfriend’s childhood bedroom looks like.

Dex’s room is—reassuringly and disappointingly—very similarly decorated to his dorm room. There are a few more posters and trophies, and while it’s very tidy, it is more cluttered with years of accumulation. Connor smiles slightly when he spots a shelf that is stuffed full of comic books and has a clearly well-loved Captain America action figure and a battered Chewbecca figure sitting in front of them. “Old friends?” He teases gently.

Dex scowls, but there’s no heat in it. “Hey, Steve, Chewie, and I went on all sorts of awesome adventures!” His face shifts, and he adds, in a much softer voice “they were always there for me and never made fun of me.”

“Luke Skywalker and Rogue were my friends like that when I was growing up,” Connor says quietly, remembering how lonely his childhood had been, and how even having those action figures made things so much more bearable.

Dex squeezes his hand before going over to the small bed to pull off a pillow. He tosses it lightly to the younger teen before going into the small closet and pulling another one off of the top shelf. “Did you bring sweats to sleep in or…?”

“I have sleeping pants and an old shirt.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah, no. You’ll freeze and I’m not about to find out just how cold your hands and feet can get.” He rummages in a small drawer, pulling out a couple pairs of heavy socks, a paint-spattered sweatshirt, and some old sweatpants. Unceremoniously, he drops them on top of the pillow in Connor’s arms. “They’ll be big on you, but if you layer them over your pyjamas, you should be okay.”

Connor lifts an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you don’t think you’ll be able to keep me warm?”

He shouldn’t enjoy how red his boyfriend gets, but Dex is _adorable_ when he blushes. It’s even better when he’s shirtless and Connor can see how far down the flush goes, but that’s a thought for later, when Dex’s golden eyes aren’t flickering towards the wall that Connor assumes is the one that he shares with his parents’ room.

“I’m saying I don’t want to freeze to death when you stick those ice blocks you call feet on me,” the redhead says, face still flaming. “This way, there might be some warmth left over for _me_.”

Connor smirks slightly. “Well, if you say so…” Secretly, he’s a little bit thrilled at the idea of wearing some of Dex’s clothes; it means he’ll smell like Dex, and be even more enveloped by his boyfriend than normal. It’s silly and stupid, but comfort is comfort, and he’ll take it where he can get it.

They brush their teeth in the single bathroom, and Dex lets him go first for changing and using the toilet.

Mr Poindexter comes down while Dex is in the bathroom, and Connor smiles, feeling suddenly nervous as Dex’s father glances over at him. “I hope you sleep well,” he says, not having much else to offer.

The older man nods, almost absently, but then his eyes focus and he gives the chestnut-haired teen a stern look. “I may not agree with some of my son’s choices,” he tells Connor shortly, “but there’s no need for you to get dragged through one of his and his mother’s stubborn face-offs. If you get cold out there, you come on in and sleep in Will’s bed, you hear me? Don’t be stupid just to prove a point for my son.”

“Yessir,” Connor immediately replies.

“Good,” Mr Poindexter says as the bathroom door swings open and Dex blinks when he sees his father.

“Pa,” he acknowledges. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

“Thank you.” Mr Poindexter sends Connor a meaningful look before he steps into the small room and the door clicks firmly behind him.

Dex lifts an eyebrow.

“He just told me to come inside if I get too cold,” Connor mumbles as he slips on his shoes and gathers up his things and the pillows.

“Ah,” Dex says. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but it’s always good to know that sort of thing.” He glances down the hallway as he holds the door open for the smaller teen. In a much quieter voice, he says “I did snag a glove or two from the kitchen, and a few old towels.”

Connor’s blood is _instantly_ on fire, despite hold cold the air is. “…Okay,” he manages to force out, his throat suddenly dry and his pants too tight.

It doesn’t help when Dex opens the gate of his truck and then _hefts_ Connor up on to it, easy as anything.

The freshman will be embarrassed about the sound he makes later. Much, much, _much_ later. Right now, all he can think about is how strong his boyfriend is and how—in the very near future—he’ll be getting fucked in the _best_ sense of the word.

Greedily, he reaches for the redhead and he whines when Dex gently presses the towels into his arms instead.

“I know, Love, I know,” Dex instantly soothes, “but I have to crack the windows or we’ll get soaked from the condensation from our breaths. Why don’t you get your shoes off and everything ready while I do that, okay?”

Connor takes a deep breath and forces himself not to grab at the taller teen. “Okay,” he says and his voice is already rough with want. He reminds himself that it will be better if Dex has everything ready to go so they don’t have to stop midway through to get something or do something or whatever. He _knows_ this, but he _aches_ with desire.

He shucks off all the clothes on his lower half after he situates the towels underneath him and even with all the blankets on top of the sleeping bag, the sheets are still cold enough he nearly loses his erection. He makes sure that the condom is next to the gloves and lube as Dex cracks the windows in the cab and the one between the bed and the cab before coming around to the back and shutting them inside. There’s a rustling and the mattress shifts as Dex moves around. He finally slips in next to Connor.

“You’re letting in cold air,” the younger teen complains, a little too breathlessly, and then he moans deeply because the other player has pressed his larger body down into his, and Dex is also naked from the waist down.

Dex isn’t silent either, and then they’re kissing, wet and messy and _so_ good. “Love,” he groans between urgent kisses as Connor wraps his legs around him and their groins line up. “I’ve missed this. God, how I’ve missed this. You feel _amazing_.”

Connor rolls his hips up in the filthiest way he can. “In,” he begs. “I need you _in_ me, _now!_ ” He knows it’s cliché to say, but he’s _desperate_. It’s been _far_ too long.

His boyfriend, to his everlasting credit, doesn’t argue. He simply grabs the younger teen’s hips and rolls them so Connor is straddling him. He fumbles a little, and then his large hands are gone, followed shortly by the sound of a plastic glove being snapped on.

Connor makes a painfully aroused noise and tries to spread his legs wider.

Dex hisses when he gets some lube on his fingers and then doesn’t press his fingers into Connor, probably because the lube is cold and he won’t do that to his boyfriend, no matter how much he begs. He does, at least, kiss the younger teen some more. “I’m sorry it’s so dark,” he whispers in between each messy kiss. “I hate missing out on seeing how beautiful you are.”

_Finally_ , a slick finger touches Connor’s entrance and he shudders. He feels Dex pause underneath him and he immediately cuts off the question he can feel coming. “Not cold, just get _in_ me already!”

It is testimony to how badly Dex wants this as well because he doesn’t question it; he simply pushes in one finger a bit faster than he normally would have. Connor nearly sobs with pleasure and promptly starts imploring the redhead to add another one or two so they can _get on with it!_ before he dies of sexual frustration.

Dex shuts him up by kissing him and kneading his ass with his free hand appreciatively.

By the time the redhead has three fingers inside him, Connor is alternating between begging and demanding. He’s also given up on holding himself up and is spread out over Dex, pawing at the stupidly thick shirt that is keeping Dex’s pretty freckled skin away from his hands. He feels the pure _need_ zipping through his body, and even if he wasn’t out of his mind with lust, he would be hard-pressed to come up with a time that he _wants_ as much as he does right now.

Dex yanks his fingers out and the shorter teen shakes with anticipation, ignoring the uncomfortable emptiness; he’ll be filled in just a few moments.

Dex abruptly cusses violently, and not in a good way. “I tore the condom,” he hisses furiously before Connor can ask. “God _damn_ it!”

“’Sokay,” Connor says, drunk on how aroused he is. “We don’t need it. We’re both clean and you’ve only been with me. You can just fuck me.”

A shudder runs through his boyfriend’s body. “ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps as his fingers tighten almost convulsively. “Love, you can’t— _Jesus_ , you can’t just _say_ things like that to me!”

“Why not? It’ll be good.” And he knows it—he’s been thinking about Dex inside him, with nothing between them, for a while now; he’s never been with someone without a condom and he’s never particularly cared before, but now? Now, it sounds like the best damn idea he’s ever had. “I want that. Want you and _only_ you inside of me.”

Dex makes that punched-out sound, the one he always makes when he’s so aroused that he can barely think. “Love,” he chokes out, “we can’t—this isn’t—it’s not that I don’t—I don’t think—we should talk about this, not”—he swallows hard—“not…not when I’m so desperate for you. I’m not…I can’t make good choices right now.”

Connor leans forward and kisses him, hotly and slowly. “I think about you, deep inside me,” he murmurs into the redhead’s panting mouth, “and knowing that you’ll fill me even more when I make you come is _so_ hot. I want that. I want _you_. _Just_ you and _only_ you.”

Dex shudders again. “I…” he says and it sounds like the words are being ripped out of him. “I _can’t_ , Love. I can’t make a decision this big right now. I _can’t_ run the risk of that regret, not with you.”

Connor wants to _scream._ All he wants if for his boyfriend to _fuck_ him—is that _really_ too much to ask?

“I hate your morals or ethics or sense of decency or whatever,” he snarls into the side of Dex’s neck. “I _hate_ them, _so damn much!_ ”

There’s the snap of plastic and the sounds of lube before three of Dex’s fingers push back into him in one sharp, smooth move. The redhead doesn’t mess around, immediately going for Connor’s prostate.

The chestnut-haired teen lets out a small cry of pleasure. It’s not as good as Dex’s thick dick, but it’s better than being empty.

And he can’t hold on to his anger—not with his boyfriend kissing the side of his face while murmuring quiet, agonised apologies, and the rough hand that’s not occupied inside of the smaller teen has wrapped around both of their cocks. It’s not as good as being fucked, but it’s more than they’ve been able to do for _ages_.

So he shoves their shirts up so he can touch all of Dex’s hard muscles and have even more skin contact. “I haven’t forgiven you,” he mumbles as the older teen scrapes his teeth down his neck, flexing his hips. “You owe me, _so much_.”

“I know, Love, I _know_. I promise, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow ,” Dex whispers, jerking upwards and nosing the collars of Connor’s shirts out of the way so he can nip at the juncture of the neck. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

“I had better not be able to sit for a _week_ ,” the shorter boy demands. “Much less _walk_.”

“Yes,” Dex agrees before moaning lowly as he twists his hand on an upstroke. “You feel _amazing_.”

Connor almost tells him that he’d feel even better wrapped around the redhead’s dick, but Dex kisses him before he can, far too softly for the urgency that’s building below their waists. It’s a kiss that says _You are beautiful_ and _You are so important_ and _You are loved_ , and it is, abruptly, too much. Too much pleasure, too much love being directed at him, too much _want_ in his veins. He yanks his mouth away so he can bury his face in the crook of Dex’s neck and he nearly sobs as his comes.

Dex doesn’t last long after that. He adds to the mess between them, groaning thickly. Softly, he nuzzles at Connor’s shoulder as he comes down and loosens his grip. “Love you,” he mumbles. “So very much.”

Connor shudders when the fingers that are still inside him flex slightly, distracting him from what he was going to say. He’s still sensitive and he can’t tell if he wants Dex to pull his fingers out or if he wants them to keep him full for a little bit longer. He can feel that his desire has been softened, but it isn’t completely sated. He still _needs_ , just not as much as he did; he’s less likely to jump Dex at an extremely inopportune moment.

Before he can decide, Dex gently pulls his fingers out and Connor makes a quiet sound of displeased unhappiness. The redhead soothes him as he cleans the two them up. “Tomorrow,” he promises as he helps Connor back into his clothing before quickly shimming into his own. He shoves the now-dirty towels off the mattress along with the trash, and then wraps himself around the smaller teen.

Connor snuggles so his back is flush against Dex’s strong chest. “You do know the best way to share body heat is to be naked, yeah?” He mumbles as he braids his fingers through the ones that are splayed across his chest.

“You’ll appreciate it in the morning when you don’t have to pull on cold clothes,” Dex murmurs before placing a small kiss right behind his ear. “Anyhow, I know from experience how cold your toes get; it’s for my comfort as much as it is for yours.”

He lifts a scarred knuckle up and nips it in revenge, but soothes the sting with a gentle buss. “Dick,” he grumbles with far too much fondness.

“Yup, that’s me. Your very own personal dick.”

Connor snorts and starts to snicker, and the larger teen starts shaking with his own laughter a moment later. “Okay, fine. Not _exactly_ what I meant, but not an untrue statement,” Dex says through his chuckles.

“Damn straight,” Connor mutters playfully and pulls his boyfriend’s arms around him tighter. It feels good, the laughter and the cuddling and the gentle kisses that Dex keeps pressing into his skin. It’s not perfect, but it is close.

“Good night, Love,” Dex whispers softly when the younger teen starts to fade in the face of a long day and an orgasm and being held. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Connor sleepily agrees.

_Tomorrow_.


	8. Chapter 8

Half of Dex’s face is pretty damn cold when he wakes up, but the rest of him is warm. He doesn’t open his eyes immediately, but breathes deeply. He smells the ocean, pine trees, the last remnants of winter, and Whiskey; it’s a combination he decides that he rather likes and would be okay with smelling for the rest of his life.

Speaking of his boyfriend, it seems the smaller teen had turned during the night and has his face buried in Dex’s chest, while the rest of him is curled up in Dex’s arm, clearly seeking out the warmth the freckled boy is providing. He’s also somehow managed to tuck his toes between Dex’s calves (and Dex can feel that they’re cool, even through the wool socks).

Dex pushes aside the easy morning arousal he can feel slowly building inside him. As much as he would like to indulge the fantasy of sleepy morning kissing and making out, he knows the privacy they have is little better than an illusion and his parents will be up soon. He would also like to go on a short run before breakfast and he’d like to show Whiskey his favourite running route, and neither thing is conducive to a lazy morning spent making the air mattress sag more.

Still, he can spend a _few_ minutes enjoying Whiskey in his arms.

Whiskey stirs before burrowing deeper into Dex’s arms and the older teen feels his heart spill over with contentment at unconscious gesture. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head. If Whiskey lives with him next year, he could have this _every day_.

Dex stops the thought before it goes too far; he doesn’t want to build himself up too much. It’s completely within Whiskey’s rights to want to live somewhere else next fall and as much as Dex dreams of the domesticity of living together and wants it more than just about anything else, the decision is ultimately the freshman’s.

Whiskey stirs again and the sophomore opens his eyes. He looks down and watches as the shorter boy starts to wake up.

Pretty rufous eyes blink up at him. “‘Morning, Love,” Dex rumbles quietly.

“Mm. Were you watching me sleep?” Whiskey mumbles, not pulling away in the slightest. “Kinda creepy.”

“Wasn’t. I watched you wake up, but I wasn’t watching you sleep.”

The younger teen hums again and angles his face towards Dex, and the redhead dips down, kissing him slowly. It’s sleepy and sour, but Dex wouldn’t change the intimacy in it for anything.

When their lips part, Whiskey cuddles back in against the taller boy with a satisfied sigh. “When do we have to be up?” His voice is muffled by the freckled boy’s shirt.

“Soon. I was hoping to maybe get in a run before breakfast and that you would join me?”

“Yeah?” Whiskey glances up through his eyelashes, a hint of a smile playing around his mouth.

“Yeah. Thought maybe I’d show you my favourite route.”

“I’d like that. But maybe not right now.”

“Okay,” Dex agreed, tightening his arms slightly and feeling more than seeing Whiskey’s happiness.

It’s quiet and comfortable, and they stay warm and relaxed despite the cold air, entwined with each other until Dex’s phone alarm does eventually go off. Whiskey makes a small displeased noise, but shivering, follows Dex out of their nest to pull on his shoes and jacket.

Inside the Poindexter home, Pa is scowling at the coffee pot and Ma is nowhere to be seen, but since Dex can hear the bathroom fan faintly running, it’s a safe bet she’s finishing up her shower.

“We’re going to get a run in before breakfast,” Dex tells his dad. “Just my usual route, nothing more.”

“I’ll tell your mother.” Pa sounds slightly distracted and hazy around the edges. He glares harder at the coffee pot, clearly trying to will it to work faster through sheer force of his stare alone.

Whiskey looks mildly amused at Pa’s coffee fixation, but says nothing as he follows Dex up to his room to change into some running clothes. They both do a few quick stretches on the front porch before the older teen jumps off and starts down the familiar path, Whiskey comfortably on his heels.

There are still patches of dirty snow in the shade of the forest and the wind coming off the ocean is sharp, but Dex gets to see Whiskey’s face every time they rounded a bend and a new tableau is visible.

Just before they reach the house again, Dex pulls his boyfriend off the path into a small copse of trees. Whiskey makes a surprised sound that quickly morphs into something wanton when the older boy kisses him.

They make out warmly for a few moments before Dex slowly pulls back before things got too intense. He can feel the heat starting to grow in his gut and as much as he wants to feed that fire, this is neither the time nor the place.

So even though Whiskey looks even better than usual, with his windswept hair, his cold exercise-pinkened cheeks, and his hungry darkening eyes, Dex forces himself to step back. To stop himself from reaching out and gathering up the freshman again, he says ‘race you back!’

“What the— _hey!_ ” Whiskey rockets after him. “ _Asshole!_ ”

Dex laughs a bit breathlessly, but doesn’t reply, focusing on keeping his speed up. He’s got the stamina, but his boyfriend is faster, so Dex needs every advantage he can get if he wants to win.

Just before he reaches the yard, Whisky tackles him and tries to drag him down. Stumbling, he manages to keep his feet under him and he lurches forwards. “Ha, I win!”

“ _Cheater!_ ” Whiskey doesn’t let go. “I demand a rematch!”

“Now, now, don’t be such a sore loser!” The taller teen grabs at his dangling boyfriend and hauls him up and tosses him over his shoulder. He charges towards the house while Whiskey cusses up a storm and flails half-heartedly. “No swearing in my parents’ house!”

“You _mother-fu_ —”

Ma clears her throat pointedly.

“— _Loving_ overgrown monkey-armed _mule!_ ” Whiskey amends, being more careful about his kicking so he doesn’t accidentally break something. “I am going to _punch_ you when you put me down!”

Since being put down is probably the _last_ thing the smaller teen wants right now (Dex hadn’t thought about how much Whiskey… _likes_ being manhandled when he started this whole thing, and it _really_ wouldn’t do for his parents to get an eyeful, even if it has gone down a little bit since they’ve made their presence known), Dex keeps Whiskey over his shoulder. “Will there be time for one of us to shower before breakfast?” He asks brightly.

Ma rolls her eyes slightly. “Yes, but only a quick one.” Her expression clearly said she fully expected him to let Whiskey have it, as if he wouldn’t.

Dex salutes with his free hand and carries his boyfriend out, still kicking and cursing up a quiet (but swear-free) storm. He pauses only to scoop up Whiskey’s duffel before he deposits him in the bathroom. “You heard Ma—it has to be a quick—”

Whiskey pulls his head down and proceeds to devastate Dex’s brain with his _very_ talented mouth.

“ _That_ ,” he breathes out a few moments later when they break apart and Dex tries to follow his lips, “is for this morning. And _this_ ”—he gooses the taller boy right on the ass and the redhead yelps—“is for giving me an erection when your parents were right there!”

With that, he shoves Dex out of the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Dex has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down and to hopefully wipe the goofy expression off of his face. Judging how both his parents give him a stern look when he comes back into the kitchen, he wasn’t very successful. He busies himself with getting coffee for him and Whiskey, and works on smoothing his face out.

“Has Connor heard from his family?” His mother asks, a bit abruptly.

“No, he hasn’t. The only person in his family that will talk to him is his cousin, but he’s hoping that he hasn’t been completely cut off from a few of his great-uncles and a great-aunt.” Dex fills the mugs, good mood gone, and goes over to fridge to get some cream for Whiskey’s coffee.

Ma sniffs disdainfully. “His parents are making a mistake they’ll regret,” she says shortly and flips the flapjacks with a bit more force than is necessary. “He seems like a very polite and charming boy.”

Both Dex and his father stare at Ma for a moment. That had been… _very_ high praise from her, far higher than Dex could have even dreamed of at this point in time. Something hopeful and warm unfurled in his chest—this could work. If Whiskey had already gotten Ma to say something like _that_ …it means that she is that much closer to accepting the two of them.

“Has he said where he’s planning on staying this summer?” Pa asks after a moment as Dex adds a spoonful of sugar to Whiskey’s coffee.

“Not yet. I’m hoping after this weekend, he’ll know what he wants to do.” Dex takes a sip of his own plain, black coffee and pushes aside his current favourite (but probably deeply unrealistic) daydream of the two of them cohabiting perfectly together for the rest of their lives, starting with this summer.

“Is that what you’re doing today—showing him around?” Ma doesn’t look up from the flapjacks. “Will you be around for lunch and dinner?”

“Yeah, a little. I’m also going to bring him over to the rink to meet Uncle Nick and to Uncle Frank’s store so he can talk to both of them and get a chance to ask any questions he might have. I don’t think we’ll be back for lunch, but I plan on being here for dinner. I’m hoping to make a pie for it.”

“Dinner’ll be at six and I’m not going to hold it if you’re late,” she informs him with a sniff, refusing to comment on the idea of him baking, and Dex murmurs in acknowledgement before gathering up some plates and silverware.

Whiskey comes in a few minutes later and he looks fresh and damp and sweet. Dex wants to curl around him and smell the clean skin behind his ears and nuzzle into the warm arch of his neck. He thinks about kissing him, slow and soft, until Whiskey’s pretty eyes are hazy and hot.

He doesn’t, but he does place a quick peck on his boyfriend’s perfect mouth when he pushes the coffee mug into Whiskey’s hand. “Destroyed some perfectly good coffee for you,” he says before he goes back to setting the table.

Whiskey’s stares at him for a moment, shocked that Dex dared in front of his parents before his whole body softens with a shy happiness and he ducks his head behind his mug, pleased and apprehensive. “ _Destroyed?_ I think you mean ‘made drinkable’.”

Ma glares at her son, but he decides he doesn’t care. Whiskey is his boyfriend and Dex is going to treat him as such. The sooner his parents come to terms with the fact that the shorter boy is going to be central to Dex’s existence for as long as he can get away with, the better.

Besides, it was only a quick kiss—it's not like he had a long and full make-out session in the middle of the room (like his brother and a few of his girlfriends have; Marta in particular seemed to have an exhibitionist streak).

Before Dex can argue with Whiskey on the finer points of coffee flavouring or can tell his mother that this is how it’s going to be, Pa clears his throat. “Connor,” he greets. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks. And you?”

“Well enough. William here says he’s going to be showing you around today.”

“So I’m told. He’s been trying very hard to make sure that I have all the information that I’ll need to make my decision.” Whiskey slowly sips his coffee. “Mrs Poindexter, do you need any help with anything?”

“I don’t. You can just go sit down.” Ma slides some of flapjacks on to a plate and Dex makes a note to let his boyfriend know to keep up the offers; Ma hasn’t warmed up completely to Whiskey yet, but he can see she’s struggling with her feelings on the matter. If he keeps being the polite guest that Dex knows he is, she’ll end up liking him, whether she wants to or not.

Whiskey doesn’t look convinced, but he follows Ma’s orders. “Did you sleep well, Mrs Poindexter?” He asks politely.

“I did,” she said, tone slightly clipped. She put the plate down in front of him. “Eat up.”

“Thank you.” Whiskey smiles and reaches for the butter.

After he compliments Ma’s cooking, Whiskey determinedly starts holding up the conversations like he did the night before. It’s good that he does, because if it was left to Dex, it would have ended with a furious shouting match and a lot of hurt feelings going around. He knows that being social like this is exhausting for Whiskey, but the older teen is grateful that his boyfriend knows how; it gives Dex and his parents the opportunity to think through their actions a little bit and a chance to get passed some of their own prejudices and preconceived notions. It makes them behave _civilly_ , which they might not have done without Whiskey’s quiet influence (Dex’s temper is not unique to him in the family).

Dex catches Whiskey’s eye at one point and tries to convey his gratitude telepathically; when the younger boy ducks his head slightly, a faint smile playing about his mouth, Dex thinks he might have been successful.

After breakfast—and after Ma had firmly turned away Whiskey’s offer to help with the dishes—Dex sets up Whiskey in the front parlour so he can do some homework or something while Dex showers. He runs up to his room to get his things and nearly walks into his father when he steps out of his room. “Sorry, Pa,” he apologies.

“I was trying to catch you before you went back down.” Pa fixes him with a stern gaze. “You need to tone things down.”

Dex blinked. “What?”

“Scale things back with your…friend.”

“‘Scale things’…I _kissed_ him this morning! In fact, it was so quick it was barely even a _peck!_ The Hays Code allowed for longer kisses than that!” Dex feels that anger start to boil inside his chest. “And he’s more than my friend—he’s my _boyfriend!_ ”

“Your mother and I don’t need to watch you try to rub… _that_ into our faces,” Pa says in a warning tone. “We’re been fairly lenient up to now and we’ve been remarkably patient about this…whole thing, but that’s a line we don’t want crossed here.”

“Jacob and his parade of girlfriends have been a _million_ times more inappropriate than Whiskey and I were!” Dex fires back, furious. “Heck, you and ma have put on bigger shows than we did!”

“Lower your voice! It’s our house and our rules, and when you are in it, we expect you to respect that! We’ve let you push your luck enough already! This is a decent home and we intend to keep it that way! That means you tone things down with your friend!”

He struggles with his temper for a moment before giving up. “You know what? _No_. Whiskey’s my boyfriend and I love him; he’s the most important thing in my life and—hands _down_ —the best thing that has _ever_ happened to me! I’m not going to ‘tone things down’ or ‘scale back’ on things like kissing my _boyfriend_ hello and goodbye or holding his hand or anything like that! I won’t be a jerk or an inconsiderate asshole about it, but I’m not going hide my feelings for him or pretend that we’re only ‘ _friends_ ’.” He glares at his father. “You can’t ask for my respect and then not offer me any in return!” With that, he turns and stomps to the shower.

Dex stands in the middle of the bathroom and makes himself take a few slow, deep breaths. He had hoped once his parents met Whiskey, they would start making an effort to change some of their views. Unfortunately, he didn’t realise that there was a difference between his parents _liking_ Whiskey and _accepting_ Whiskey as his boyfriend, and he really should have. Because even though he can see his parents—Ma in particular—are starting to warm up to the young forwards despite themselves, the conversation Dex just had with his father has made it clear that they are nowhere _near_ accepting Whiskey.

And it hurts more than he thought it would. He’s seen Jacob’s girl-of-the-week be welcomed and brought into the fold, and the one other time Dex introduced his parents to a romantic interest, she’d been greeted and treated with far more warmth than Whiskey has been. He hadn’t thought they would immediately open their arms for his boyfriend, but he had hoped…well, he had dreamed it would be different.

Dex sighs and strips down so he can get into the shower. If his parents are this upset with him giving his boyfriend a peck (and for the record, he’s _not_ going to stop—Whiskey _loves_ those gestures of affection and quite frankly, he _deserves_ them), there is _no_ way that they’ll let the two share a room this summer. And while Dex and Whiskey could _technically_ sleep in Dex’s truck for the entirety of their summer vacation, it’s not really a practical solution. He’s going to have to figure out some alternatives; he can’t expect that Whiskey will want to stay with him here—jobs notwithstanding—if they’re expected to either spend it apart or be forced to creep around.

It’s a new budgetary consideration and it means that he’s going to have to work more hours. He sighs again. He didn’t think it would be easy, but he wishes it could be, at least a little bit.

Whiskey’s eyes hold a question when the redhead comes out and tells him to get ready to go, but he doesn’t vocalise it until they’re outside. “Is there anything you need me to do?” He doesn’t, Dex notices, ask if things are okay.

Dex curls his hand around Whiskey’s. “No, you just keep doing what you’re doing. I just…I had high hopes for things, and so far, my parents are letting me down.” He gives the smaller hand in his a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been perfect, Love, and I know it’s been tiring for you, but know I’m grateful. I definitely would have said something this morning that would have fucked everything up if I had been left to my own devices.”

Whiskey looks at him, eyes fathomless. “Okay,” he says after a moment and he stretches up so he places a careful kiss on a freckled cheek. He settles back down before Dex can turn his head all the way and catch his mouth. “Where to first?”

Dex gives the chestnut-haired boy hand another squeeze before he unlocks his truck. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do quite yet, but for Whiskey, he’ll figure something out. It’s what the shorter teen deserves and it’s what Dex wants.

He’ll make it work. One way or another, he _will_.


	9. Chapter 9

They start out at the large store that’s two towns over (after they cleaned a few things from the night before from the bed of the truck) so Dex can pick up some apples for a pie he wants to make and to get condoms; it takes all of Connor’s self-restraint not climb on top of his boyfriend and see if they could use up the whole box in one go (they’ve come close before—there was that _amazing_ day right after they got back from winter break…).

He firmly tells himself that he can wait until tonight; Dex has promised and it would take a natural disaster or an act of god to get Dex to break his word.

The redhead points various landmarks or places of interest as they drive back to Dex’s hometown, but the freshman can see that Dex is working something out. It’s clearly something important—judging by the furrow between his eyebrows that doesn’t quite go away, even when he laughs—but he’s obviously not in a place that he’s ready to talk about it yet. Connor wonders if it has to do with the fight he heard Dex having with his father this morning, but doesn’t ask; when Dex has worked through the issue and has come up with a few possible solutions, he’ll bring it up himself.

Their next stop is the ice rink. Dex’s Uncle Nick has broad shoulders, a broken incisor, and a nose that has clearly been broken more than once, but he manages to project an aura of gruffness and infinite patience. He grills Connor on his opinion of children and knowledge of drills. He also warns the teen about some of the parents and how they might react to him, especially since he’s in a relationship with Dex.

“You play hockey, so you can’t be too much of a pansy,” the man says with all the subtly and delicacy of a charging hippo, “but that might not matter to some of the folks here. Just know that you can’t punch them if they’re fuckin’ assholes, but I can make shit go down unpleasantly if anyone gives you crap.”

“Thank you,” Connor replies and glances up at Dex, gaging if he can say something to his uncle about his language.

Dex, thankfully, does it for him. “Uncle Nick, ‘pansy’ is a slur,” he says gently. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t use to refer to me or my boyfriend.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to be better about that," the man grunts, much to the freshman's surprise. “I’ll add it to the list so the kids don’t use it, either.” He ambles over to a large board that says ‘FINEABLE LANGAUAGE ($0.25 first daily offense, $1 for every other after)’ and scribbles ‘ _Pansy_ ’ under ‘ _Towelhead’_ with a permanent marker. “All right, you got any questions for me ‘bout the job?”

Connor asks about timing and what he’d be expected to do, and whether if Nick needs to see anything about Connor’s skills.

“Nah, I’ve seen you when they’ve pulled up Will’s games for me. You’re good, so I know I don’t have to give a fuck about that shit. Plus, I ain’t much of a forward, so camps have been weighted towards defence and it’ll be good to have someone who’s got that shit down pat to help the kids and to balance things out.” He crosses his big arms over his thickening middle. “So, you interested?”

“I am,” Connor’s mouth says and he’s surprised to realise that he _is_. “I still have to see about a few more things before I make a final decision, but I am interested.”

“Good. Here.” He shoves a ragged slip of paper at the teen. “That’s all my contact info and shit. You let me know as soon as you get yourself squared away, yeah?”

Connor looks at the scrawling, uneven handwriting. “Thank you.”

Dex’s uncle shrugs. “It ain’t nothin’.”

“You really don’t have to,” Dex puts in, “but we appreciate it.”

The man shrugs again. “It’s a bit early for lunch,” he says, clearly not discussing their thanks any further. “But you boys wanna hit up Jo’s before it ain’t got a goddamn table left? My treat.”

Lunch is—unexpectedly—fun. Nick (“Just Nick—Coach P is for the little fuckin’ kneecap-gnawer, not possible employees.”) has some shockingly hilarious (and sometimes _wildly_ inappropriate) tales from back in the day when he was being scouted before he enlisted. The man definitely has rough edges and he swears enough that Connors wonders who would willing let him be around children, but he’s passionate and he genuinely is trying to make the world a better place by giving the community—particularly kids—a safe, structured environment to try out various ice sports (apparently, he’s got a track for people to practice speed skating and a spot for curling on top of the rinks for hockey and figure skating).

The conversation turns to news of people that Connor’s never heard of, but it’s entertaining to listen to the small-town gossip and scandals. Nick also mentions—casually—to Dex that Mindy is moving down to the city, and thus Miz Zorah and Miss Abigail will be having a room available soon; Connor glances at his boyfriend when he hears this, unsure what it means, but the redhead’s face gets thoughtful. “Good to know,” is all he says and the younger teen makes a note to ask about this later.

They end up sitting at the diner longer than Connor expected them to, to the point that they’re almost late to Dex’s other uncle’s shop. This uncle has broad, hard-working hands and is about Connor’s height, but manages to project the imagine of being almost as tall as Dex. He looks over the freshman with a critical eye. “So you’re Will’s boy,” he says abruptly. “He talks about you a lot.”

Connor politely shakes his hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He wonders if this uncle will introduce him to everyone else as ‘Will’s boy’ and isn’t opposed to the idea; he’d rather it be ‘Will’s boyfriend’, but this isn’t the worst thing he could be called by any stretch of the imagination. Besides, the man is already doing more than Dex’s own parents did—he’s acknowledging the fact that the two are together out loud.

“Same.” The uncle—Frank?—gives Dex a pointed stare. “Gonna interview him now,” he says.

It takes Dex a second, and he flushes. “Sorry. Whiskey, I’ll meet you at the fountain shoppe across the street when you’re done, okay?” He quickly drops a peck on to Connor’s mouth before leaving, shutting the door to the cluttered office behind him.

Frank’s eyebrows have lifted at the kiss, but he doesn’t comment on it. He simply gestures to a chair that is squeezed in between a desk, a work bench, and a filing cabinet before sitting across the desk from Connor. “So, you’re thinking about living up here with Will this summer.”

“Yes, sir.” Unlike Nick, this uncle feels like honorifics are necessary.

“So you’ll need a job to pay for that college you both go to.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your work history?”

Connor takes a deep breath. “I don’t have one.” Not working had never been an embarrassing thing in the past, but then he started dating Dex and realised that maybe it wasn’t such a good thing. And then the…thing…with his family happened, and now he’s nearly ashamed of never holding a job. “But I’m a hard worker and I’m willing to learn,” he tells Dex’s uncle. “I’ll do my best not to make the same mistake twice.”

The older man doesn’t look surprised about Connor’s lack of any sort of job, so maybe Dex has told him already, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Okay, what’s your major at Samwell?”

“Currently, economics, but…I don’t know if I’ll stay with that.” Economics, political science/pre-law, business, or pre-med had been the choices that his grandmother had laid out for him as acceptable majors, and at the time, economics seemed the most interesting. He’s not sure that he wants to stay with it as a major, though. Maybe he’ll make it a minor, but he doesn’t know yet. “There are a few other majors I’d like to explore before I commit.” What those majors are, he has no idea, but he’s determined to at least look into something different as a sort of ‘fuck you’ to his family. It would serve them right if he got an art history or music or English major (And if Nursey’s overly-sensitive reaction to when Tony had asked him what he was going to do with his English major, and then Holster had started to sing a song from a musical about it is any indication of how everyone responds to English majors, it might be the _perfect_ middle finger to his family).

Frank nods. “Fair enough. What are you hoping to do?”

“Ideally or realistically?”

The eyebrow rises again, but then he looks amused. “Both.”

“Ideally, I get signed by the NHL. Realistically, I get my degree and then get a job that I don’t hate."

“Ambition all around,” the man says dryly, but Connor thinks he might be laughing at the teenager. “Well, that’s that, then. Let’s talk about the work you’ll be doing here if you’re up here this summer."

Frank lays out all his expectations and what the job requires. It sounds more perfunctory and boring than the one at the rink, but no job is perfect. Besides, Connor needs more than one job if he wants to continue at Samwell and in hockey, and Dex’s uncles are being kind enough to give him a chance, even though they have no reason to. He doesn’t want to waste these opportunities.

He thanks Frank again as things wrap up. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”

The man only nods again. “Ain’t a problem,” he says shortly. “I just need someone to do the job, and Will speaks highly of you. If you decide you want the job, you let me know, hear? Sooner versus later.”

“Yes sir, I will. Thank you again.” Connor shakes the older man’s hand firmly.

As he walks over to the fountain shoppe across the street, Connor feels something loosen in his chest that he hadn’t known was tight. He has jobs lined up for the summer. He’s going to be able to keep playing hockey and he’s going to be able to go to college. It’s going to be a steep learning curve, but he’s going to make it happen, if not for his sake, then for Dex’s. Because this never would have happened without the redhead.

And maybe this whole thing will end in disaster. Maybe it will explode in Connor's face. Maybe it will ruin everything. But he’ll survive it—he’s already survived worse—and he’ll hopefully will have learned something by the end. If nothing else, it’s will be an experience and it will show Dex that he can pull his weight, that he’s someone worth fighting for and to be proud of.

Connor pushes open the door and immediately spots his boyfriend’s auburn head. Dex seems to be chatting amicably with two old ladies, one who looks like she just came from a hippie commune via the _Little House on the Prairie_ television show and the other who seems to have escaped from the set of _Golden Girls_.

Curious and a little cautious, Connor stops right next to his tall boyfriend and wishes they were alone so Dex would kiss him ‘hello’.

_Golden Girls_ gives him the most blatantly obvious once-over that he’s _ever_ received. “Is this him, Will?” She asks, still looking at Connor like she wants to do things to him that he _really_ doesn’t want to think about. “Aren’t _you_ a tall cool glass of water!”

It’s only years of social training that keeps his face straight. “Hello.”

Hippie Commune rolls her eyes. “Abigail, leave the poor boy alone. He hasn’t had time to be desensitised to your lecherous ways.”

“A cat can look at a queen, can’t it? Besides, I’m old. I could die at any moment. I might as well will be enjoying view before I go.” She smiles slowly at the freshman.

“Please stop leering at my boyfriend,” Dex says, putting a large hand on Connor’s back and drawing him in slightly. “Or else I’ll never be able to introduce him.”

“Aren’t you two a _picture_ ,” _Golden Girls_ breathes—far too enthusiastically for the freshman’s tastes. “Maybe you both could work… _together_ , if you catch my meaning.”

Dex takes a quiet deep breath and looks like he’s resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Whiskey, this is Miz Zorah and Miss Abigail,” he tells Connor in a slightly pained tone of voice. “They have a room we might be interesting in renting. If, you know…”

Suddenly, things come together and the chestnut-haired teen can’t decide if this is a supremely bad idea or a really, really, _really_ good one. “Oh, your uncle mentioned something about that today.”

Dex gives him a slightly crooked smile before turning back to the women. “Ladies, this is my boyfriend, Connor. He plays hockey with me at Samwell.”

“I _do_ love athletes,” Miss Abigail sighs, eyeing the two of them some more.

Miz Zorah makes an exasperated sound and steps up, sticking her hand out. “Pleased to meet you.” Her handshake is surprisingly firm. “Please ignore her. I would tell you that she’s harmless, but I doubt that you’d believe me. Just know that her bark is far worse than her bite.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“So, Will here said you might be interested in seeing our room we’ll be rentin’ this summer,” she says before Miss Abigail can get involved.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We need to let Mindy know so she can do some tidying up, but how does tomorrow work for you both to come over and see the room? After lunch, perhaps?”

“I think that should work, don’t you, Whiskey? We can stop at Uncle Pete’s after breakfast and clean-up, and could stop before we headed back down to Samwell.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Connor agrees and leans slightly into Dex’s sturdiness, feeling it warm him slowly. Miss Abigail’s blatant objectification of them is a little unnerving, but the redhead would never steer them wrong, and the shorter teen trusts him implicitly.

“Excellent,” Miz Zorah says briskly. “We’ll see you then. It was nice to meet you. Have a nice rest of your day.” She waves and very unsubtly drags the other old lady off.

Connor glances up at his boyfriend and raises an eyebrow.

Dex shrugs slightly and gives the younger teen a look that says they’ll talk about it as soon as they’re not in public any more. “Want an ice cream cone to go? My treat.”

Connor nods after a moment, and waits until they’re in Dex’s truck with their cold confections before lifting his eyebrow in question again.

“Pa told me that we needed to tone it down,” Dex says after a few minutes. “This morning. Apparently, me kissing you ‘good morning’ didn’t go over well.”

Connor blinks. “But it was only a peck.”

“I know.”

He swallows hard, his ice cream not as appetizing as it was a moment ago. “Okay.” He won’t make Dex’s parents angry and he won’t insist, but it makes his stomach hurt with the knowledge that he’s not going to get kissed ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ with Mr and Mrs Poindexter around.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow and he looks over, a little confused. He studies the darker-haired boy, but seems to decide against saying anything. “If they are that upset over it, they’re really not going to be okay with us sharing a bed over the summer. So I thought…we wouldn’t give them the opportunity to get upset over it because we won’t live in their house. We’ll rent. I know that means we’ll have to work more to make up the difference, but I think I can talk Miz Zorah down a bit if I do some repairs and yard work in exchange. It’ll be worth it. They won’t care if we sleep together and honestly, Miss Abigail will encourage us to kiss as much as possible because she’s a bit of a letch, so we don’t have to worry about that. And I know I should have said to you something before I brought it up with the ladies, but they were _right there_ and—”

Connor kisses his boyfriend to shut him up. The angle is awkward and uncomfortable, but he’s _drowning_ in love and affection for Dex right now. Dex, who almost _never_ spends money unless he absolutely has to, is turning down living with his parents for free so he can be with the shorter teen. So they can be _together_.

If he wasn’t already planning to spend the rest of his life with this boy, he would be now. Dex makes him feel like he’s the centre of the entire universe, like nothing else matters but him and his happiness.

_God_ , he cannot _wait_ until tonight when he can thank Dex _properly_.

Connor eases away reluctantly and reminds himself while they’re still in Dex’s truck, anybody walking by can see them, so he shouldn’t get carried away. “I’m going to call your uncles while you drive,” he says quietly, because he needs to cool down a bit.

Golden eyed blink at him, a bit hazily. “…Okay?”

“I have to tell them to hold those jobs for me.”

Dex blinks again, still looking at Connor’s mouth, and then it hits him. His gaze snaps up. He studies the younger teen for a moment, and then he’s smiling, so obviously happy that it almost hurts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And do you think that there’ll be room in the Haus basement for two hockey players next year?”

Connor didn’t think it was possible, but Dex gets _visibly_ happier. He tucks his hand behind the younger teen’s head and pulls him back up to his mouth. “Yeah, I think there will be,” he breathes before he tries to kiss Connor. It’s messy and awkward, due to the fact that the redhead can’t seem to stop beaming, but the sheer joy in the gesture makes the freshman’s head spin and his heart pound.

“Okay, I’ll let you make your calls.” Still smiling like he just won the lottery and the championship cup and then some, Dex sit back and starts up his truck.

Dex’s smile doesn’t fade through either of the calls and it stays firmly in place when they get back to his house. It softens slightly when he starts making the pie crust while Connor washes, peels, and cuts the apples, but even then it doesn’t go away. He clearly tries to reign it in during dinner, but he’s mostly unsuccessful. Even doing dishes and refilling the air mattress while Connor gets his ass handed to him in Scrabble by Dex’s parents (seriously? Forty-eight points for one letter _alone?_ And he had thought he was good at this game!) can’t seem to damp the redhead’s pure joy. He’s so radiant that it is hard for Connor to look away.

By the time the evening winds down, it’s taking everything Connor has to keep the building energy inside. The anticipation is starting to hit critical mass and all he can think is that Dex _promised_.

He prays that he can keep it together for just a little bit longer because he doesn’t want to undo any good will he might have incurred over the weekend with Dex’s parents, homophobic reactions aside. He’s managed to avoid doing something that would completely alienate them thus far and he’d like to keep the trend up.

It’s awkward, though, because it’s hard to think about much more than Dex _promised_ and his ardour is only being dampened by their presence.

Finally, finally, _finally_ , Mrs Poindexter stands and bids them a curt good night. Connor feels his heart start to beat harder as she leaves and it takes everything he has to keep the desire off of his face. Mr Poindexter probably wants to know as little as possible about their physical relationship, and the young teen is happy to try and keep it that way.

Ablutions are completed in record time, especially after Dex leans over and murmurs “I already brought everything out and I made sure everything is ready to go.”

Connor bites back a moan and has to seriously fight back the urge to jump his boyfriend right there and then, parental units be _damned_.

They don’t touch as they finish up in the bathroom, and there’s a very deliberate amount of space between them as they pull on their shoes. They are silent as they walk out and they don’t look at each other as Dex opens up the back of his truck

The dam cracks when the redhead casually catches Connor around his waist and lifts him up on to the gate, sturdy and sure in his strength. Connor grabs Dex’s jacket collar and hauls him in. He kisses the taller teen as if the fate of the world rests on it.

They kiss messily for a moment, and then Dex pulls back. Before the younger teen has a chance to get indignant, Dex braces his arms and jumps up next to Connor. “In,” he says, voice low and gravelly, gently pushing the younger teen backwards into the bed of the truck.

Connor can’t scramble backwards fast enough. He rips off his coat and kicks off his shoes as Dex shuts the gate and then follow suit. He doesn’t even get under the quilts; instead, he grabs at Dex and pulls the older boy over him, desperately opening his mouth for his boyfriend to dive inside.

_God,_ he _wants_.

Frustratingly, Dex softens his mouth and kisses the younger teen far more slowly than he’d like. When he whines in protest, the freckled boy gently shushes him. “Haste got us into this mess,” Dex murmurs into his mouth. “Let’s not have a repeat of last night. Besides, it’s not often I get to savour you; please, Love, just…let me take my time.”

Connor shivers. Well, if Dex puts it _that_ way…

And besides, wasn’t he trying to thank Dex properly? Doesn’t that mean that they do what Dex wants?

Still. “I told you I didn’t want to be able to sit,” Connor says, pushing his hands under the other teen’s shirt. “I don’t even want to be able to _walk_ by the time we’re through.”

“And you won’t,” Dex promises with a slow kiss. “Just because I’m not rushing things doesn’t mean that I won’t do everything in my power to give you what you want.” A large hand cups Connor’s jaw. “I owe you that much.”

“Damn right you do,” the freshman mutters into Dex’s mouth and the redhead snorts with laughter.

Dex pinches him for his cheek, but immediately soothes the sting. Connor revels in the small gesture. He had a few playful sexual encounters in his past, but it had never been like this, all ease and sweetness and warm trust. It makes all the others pale in comparison.

They kiss and touch and as much as the freshmen would like to get naked, it’s too cold to do so, even if they had gotten under the quilts (Dex—because he is _amazing_ —somehow managed to get the towel out from where he had put it in the bed earlier and has already arranged Connor on it). Instead, Dex slides his rough hands down the back of his boyfriend’s various layers of clothing and teases the furled entrance gently.

He does eventually pull back, but it’s only to put on a glove and to get the lubricant. Connor sighs into the taller teen’s mouth when a finger _finally_ breaches him. “More,” he says. “I want more.”

“Greedy and impatient,” Dex chides, but slowly pushes his finger all the way in. He doesn’t move it right away; instead, he scrapes his teeth against Connor’s neck as he waits for the younger forward to adjust. And no matter how much his boyfriend insists that he is _ready_ , he takes his time before he starts working in a second finger.

Connor bites Dex's lower lip in retaliation. The redhead only laughs at him.

_Finally_ , Dex pulls his fingers out and he rolls the younger boy so he is on his side, facing away from him. Connor almost protests, and then Dex tugs his pants down just down to the top of his thigh and presses his entire body along Connor’s back.

_Oh_.

Connor whines as the freckled teen carefully pushes in. _God_. _GOD_. It’s been _far_ too long since Dex has been inside him and the freshman’s head spins with pleasure as he is filled. It’s a tight fit, but it’s worth it, it’s _so_ worth it!

One of Dex’s large, rough hands slides up under Connor’s shirts and stops right about his heart as the older teen finally bottoms out. “Oh, Love,” he breathes reverentially. “Love, you are so perfect. Amazingly, incredibly _perfect_.”

“ _Move_ ,” Connor demands. “You need to start moving, _now_.”

Dex’s free hand comes up and catches the younger teen’s chin, turning it so Dex can lean over Connor’s shoulder and kiss him. “ _Magnificent_ ,” he murmurs.

Dex sets a pace that could almost be called leisurely if it weren’t for the force and power he is using to drive into his boyfriend. It’s _amazing_ and the younger teen is convinced that his brain is being liquified with each thrust. _God_ , Dex _always_ knows what the shorter player needs and he _never_ fails in delivering it. It’s _wonderful_.

One of Connor’s hands follows Dex’s freckled arm under his shirt so he can braid his fingers with rough, stronger ones while his other hand reaches behind him to try and get a handful of Dex’s ass or thigh. His fingers keep scrabbling over the worn fabric of the older teen’s sleeping pants, but he occasionally manages to find some of that smooth, speckled skin.

Dex presses compliments and praises against the shorter boy’s neck as he showers sharp kisses there, telling Connor that he is beautiful, that he feels _incredible_ , that he is the most amazing person to ever have existed. The hand on Connor’s neck slips down and curls around his dick and balls, causing the smaller teen to jerk and cry out.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Dex breathes roughly and slams in once more.

Connor almost wails and comes, _hard_.

He drifts down slowly and vaguely is pleased when he realises that Dex is a heavy, limp presence against his back, meaning the redhead found his pleasurable end as well. He should help clean up because he knows he’ll be getting cold soon, but that would require finding the energy and motivation to _move_.

Dex stirs and then reluctantly pulls out, much to Connor’s tired annoyance. He hears the older boy remove and tie up the condom, and decides that the ride home might be the _perfect_ time to talk the redhead into skipping the prophylactic the next time they fuck. There’ll be no interruptions and it’ll be relatively private.

There’s a rustling, and then Dex is gently cleaning his boyfriend up before carefully tugging his clothes back into place. He shifts things around and manages to manoeuvre them into the sleeping bag and under the quilts. He curls around the smaller boy and Connor has a brief, irrational moment of thinking nothing bad will ever be able to touch him ever again when Dex is wrapped around him like this.

He nuzzles in closer and let himself have the illusion, just for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you've all noticed, this is a bit early; since I won't be able to post at my normal time, I decided this was a compromise you all could live with. My connection with the internet will be spotty this week, so if I'm a little late in responding to your comments, it's not you! We will return to our regular scheduled programming next week.


	10. Chapter 10

Dex will be the first to admit he’s been working a bit like a man possessed on the basement room. But since it’s spring break, it’s the only time that he has that mostly his own. Sure, he still has homework and an easy exercise routine and work to all do, but not having classes makes _such_ a difference.

And he needs all the time he can get because the room has to be _perfect_ for Whiskey.

Whiskey has had a rough few months, and Dex is determined to make the room so amazing that it will distract him from things for at least a little bit. Dex may not be able to give Whiskey the moon and everything in between, like he wants to, but he can do this.

So he had gotten the younger boy’s input when he got the supplies from his uncle (and aunt—Aunt Karen is _dedicated_ to her garage sales and online postings and thrift stores, and she found them a great brand-new bed that Whiskey liked for less than a hundred dollars) and he had listened to his boyfriend’s suggestions for what would make the room better.

Dex demolished, drilled, hammered, cut, and framed the space; he traded five pies and twelve dozen cookies and car maintenance so his uncle’s electrician would come down and help run all the circuitry, as well as trading five cakes and six dozen raspberry macrons as well as an IOU to paint two decks for his uncle’s plumber to make sure everything was up to code. He sanded, primed, spackled, painted, and polished the space.

And finally, it’s almost ready. He needs to set up the furniture and get curtains for all of the windows—both the ones on the exterior wall and the ones on the interior wall to let in a little bit of light to the rest of the Haus basement—but once he gets those things done…

He sends his boyfriend a text about the newest milestones—the hanging of the barndoors and the installation of the main door—and starts sorting through the hardware so he can start putting up blinds and curtain rods. Once he gets that up, he can do some cleaning of the space. Despite the mats and blankets he’s got on the floor, there’s dust and dirt and gunk _everywhere_.

Dex makes more lists as he works. After he cleans everything, he’s going to assemble and make the bed—do _not_ go into the gutter!—and he’s going to start moving some of the furniture from his dorm that won’t be making the trek back to Maine with him. It’s nothing fancy, but it will help make the space seem more homily.

He’s moved on to the second window when he hears the door open. He turns, and there’s Whiskey. His boyfriend looks at him, and—without breaking eye contact—deliberately reaches over and locks the door.

_Oh._

“I don’t have the bed set up yet,” Dex protests, coming down from his ladder as the younger teen kicks off his shoes because Whiskey deserves a bed.

“I don’t care.”

“The floor is _filthy_.” His boyfriend _definitely_ deserves better than current state of the floor.

“Then pin me against the wall.” The shorter player’s gaze is ravenous and full of intent as he stalks closer.

“The curtains aren’t up and—”

Whiskey kisses him, all heat and erotic passion. “Then fuck me in the closet or the bathroom or _something_ ,” he mumbles into Dex’s mouth as he begins to hastily unbutton the redhead’s flannel. “I don’t care. I _need_ you, _right now_.”

“So if I make a closet joke—”

This time, Whiskey's kiss is more teeth than it is lips.

Dex cedes and tries to steer them both towards the bathroom because there’s marginally more space there than in the closet and it is _slightly_ cleaner than the rest of the place. It’s hard to stay focused, with Whiskey determinedly working on ripping off their clothing and Whiskey’s amazing mouth working its brain-melting magic, but he eventually gets them there.

Not a moment too soon, it turns out, as Whiskey yanks open the taller redhead's pants and shoves his hands under them.

“Love!” He protests, trying to shut the door behind them without yanking it off its track and turning on the lights.

“You said as soon as the walls were up and we had a door with a lock,” Whiskey almost gasps, pressing each word into Dex’s mouth, “that we _could_ and I have _waited_ and _waited_ and _waited_ , and now that we have those things, I am _done_ waiting!”

Dex catches the back of his boyfriend’s head and takes control of the kiss, slowing it down. “I’m not—I just—you deserve the _best_ ,” he finally breathes out, “and I want you to have that.”

He feels more than anything else Whiskey lowering his walls to let Dex in. “I know,” he murmurs back. “But I don’t need all of that. I only need you. And I _want_ you. _Just_ you. Like we talked about on the way home from Maine.”

Dex’s body flushes at the memory and his blood lights up with anticipation. He had nearly driven off the road in embarrassed, aroused shock when Whiskey had abruptly announced ‘I want to have sex with you without a condom’, but he managed to keep control of his truck and they actually had a mature conversation about it. And now…

He swallows hard. “Okay.” He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive sex with nothing between them—heaven knows he’s barely surviving the mind-blowing pleasure _now_ —but he won’t lie and say he hasn’t jerked off to the idea more times than is probably healthy since it was brought up.

He had to pull away when Whiskey tried to pull his jeans off before Dex got his boots off, but then they were _both_ finally naked and their kisses took on a new level of urgency.

_Fuck_ , Whiskey feel so _amazing_.

“Love, lube,” Dex mumbles before burying his teeth into the juncture of Whiskey’s neck.

The shorter teen arches up, whining before he manages to pull himself back and he ducks down to fumble with his discarded jeans. He shoves the lube at the redhead and immediately goes back to kissing the living daylight out of Dex. He hooks one of his legs over a freckled thigh and Dex feels his higher thought process sputter and drop as Whiskey’s glorious body aligns with his.

It takes all Dex has to stop his brain from plummeting to the floor and leaving him mindless with pleasure, but he manages to get the lube open and on his fingers without it going everywhere. He blindly drops the lube in the sink and vaguely hopes that the lid is on tight enough it won’t all leak down the drain, but he has more important things to think about right now.

Whiskey makes a thick, hungry sound as Dex slowly dips his fingers down to trace at the smaller boy’s entrance once he deems the lube warm enough. And— _shit_. _Shit._ _SHIT_. Dex didn’t realise how different it would be without a glove and _FUCK_ , he’s going to come even faster than he did at their first time!

Whiskey eager pulls Dex’s finger inside and he pants madly into the smaller boy’s neck at the sweet, silky tightness that grips him. Dex doesn’t move for a moment, trying to calm down because he’d like to be _inside_ before he embarrasses himself, but the younger teen is writhing against him, demanding _more faster NOW_.

Dex tries to ignore the hungry movements of his boyfriend and focuses on opening Whiskey up, but it’s easier said than done. It would be so _simple_ to get lost in Whiskey’s wants and it would be _incredible_ , but over very quickly. Not for the first time, the older teen reminds himself that he’d like to make things enjoyable for _both_ parties involved, not just him.

“ _Dex_ ,” Whiskey demands. “ _Now!_ I want you, _now!_ ”

“Yeah, okay.” Hands more unsteady than he would like them to be, Dex pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his thigh. He unhooks Whiskey’s leg and spins the shorter teen so he can brace himself against the edge of the sink; the redhead takes a deep, shuddering breath, and starts to push inside.

_HOLY._

 _FUCK_.

He didn’t know how much the condoms had deadened the sensation until that moment. It’s a new level of mind-blowing ecstasy that he didn’t even know was _possible_ to achieve, and he would have _died_ if they had done it this way the first time. In fact, he might be dead right now because _holy FUCK_.

Whiskey writhes against him. “Dex. _Dex_. Move. _Please_. I need you to move. I need you _so much_. You have to _move_ —”

Dex makes the mistake of opening his eyes.

And _shit_. _Shit_. The mirror is right across from him and he can see how beautiful and turned on his boyfriend is, and _fuck._ Dex can’t—he’s not—he won’t—

Dex squeezes his eyes shut to keep from coming immediately, but his hips jerk up roughly without his permission.

Whiskey’s moan is so perfect and amazing that it goes beyond music.

Dex bites down, slams up a few times, and comes _far_ too quickly.

He nearly sobs with overstimulation as the shorter teen keeps pressing back into him, clearly chasing his own pleasure. Clumsily, the redhead reaches down and curls his hand over the smaller one and tries to help dictate the rhythm.

He watches his boyfriend come a few moments later and _shit_ , that’s _hot_.

Whiskey’s legs start shaking and Dex manages to guide them both down to first their knees, and then to the ground, Whiskey in his lap, sliding out in the process. Inelegantly, the redhead nuzzles into the sweaty curve of Whiskey’s neck. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I’m sorry I came so fast.”

The younger teen hums and his head lolls to the side, giving Dex more room. “Mm, ‘sokay. Kinda flattering.” He wriggles a little, causing Dex to draw a sharp breath. “Can _feel_ you. I didn’t think about how… _messy_ it would feel.” He squirms again. “’Sits weird.”

“I should…clean us up.” Dex really should. He should reach up and turn on the water and wash them off. Whiskey likes it when the tall defenceman thinks about these things. He should—

Whiskey shifts once more and something drips on to Dex’s thigh. He glances down.

Then—ignoring the soft questioning sound that his boyfriend makes—Dex gently pushes Whiskey forwards a bit, just enough that the younger teen is at an angle and he can see Whiskey’s entrance. Slowly, he runs two of his fingers around the stretched, wet hole. Some of the wetness is from the lube, but the rest is from Dex. _He_ did this; he’s the first person who got to have Whiskey like this. Nobody else has; it’s something that only _he’s_ had the honour of experiencing.

A little more oozes out and Dex swirls his fingers, catching it before carefully pushing it back into Whiskey. And Whiskey’s body is silky and hot and _wet_ around his fingers, wet because of _Dex._ _He’s_ the cause, _he’s_ the one who has marked the shorter teen in such an intimate way, he’s made Whiskey _his_. _He’s_ the only one who’s been allowed to and that’s such a wildly erotic thought that he can’t think straight.

Dex fucks his boyfriend again, right there on the floor, the possessive side he tries so hard to keep under control overwhelming his common sense and taking the wheel. Whiskey makes soft, broken noises of arousal as he braces one hand against the edge of the sink and other on Dex’s shoulder as the redhead wraps his hand around him and buries his teeth in the shorter teen’s skin. He’ll embarrass the older teen later when he flaunts the lines of bruises on his neck and shoulders, but Dex isn’t thinking that far into the future right now. What _matters_ is that Whiskey is exquisite and slick and moaning and _Dex’s_.

This time, it’s Whiskey who comes quickly, crying out his release and setting Dex off. And _fuck_. He had thought the first orgasm—speedy as it was—had been intense, but _this_ one…

_FUCK_.

He’s panting into Whiskey’s soft skin as he slowly becomes aware of things again. Whiskey is heavy and limp in his lap, but the younger teen’s head is clumsily nudging against Dex’s as he asks for a kiss wordlessly. It lacks the normal finesse, but it’s warm and sweet and happy.

It takes Dex twice as long to clean them up and get them dressed and out of the bathroom, but when he wraps his hoodie around the smaller chestnut-haired teen, Connor smiles up at him and curls up against Dex’s chest.

And yeah, okay, Dex can sit down and take a break.

The redhead settles them down so his back is against the wall and Whiskey is ensconced warmly on his lap. Whiskey only burrows deeper into Dex’s arms and he falls asleep quickly after that.

Dex ends up dozing off himself and that’s how the other Frogs find them later when they come down to tell them about the pie Bitty’s just made (Chowder) and to be a jerk about the mess that can be seen through the windows (Nursey).

“Yeah, we’ll be up in a few,” Dex calls as his gorgeous boyfriend slowly gets up, adjusting the hoodie and showing off the developing bruises on his neck. He gets to his feet and has to shake himself a little bit because his butt is a bit numb from sitting with Whiskey in his lap.

Whiskey kisses him lightly before he can start towards the door and snuggles up against him. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I really needed that. And next time, I’ll let you skip the condom when I blow you. Imagine what I’ll look like _then_.”

Dex’s dick twitches in interest, the _traitor_ , right against the shorter teens, and he feels his face _flame_.

Whiskey’s smirk is decidedly self-satisfied. “You’re on board; good to know. I’ll bear that in mind.” He steps back before Dex’s cock can make a follow-up offer. “C’mon, let’s got get some pie.” He holds out his hand and his smirk softens when Dex takes it.

Dex takes one last quick glance around the room before he shuts and locks the door. Yes, the space is a mess, but he can already tell it’s going to be great when they move in.

It’s going to be more than a room—it’s going to be a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're hitting the final stretch, folks!


	11. Chapter 11

Connor’s been having a good day. He and Dex spent the their first (of hopefully many!) night together in the completed room in the Haus and he woke up enveloped in Dex. And even though they'd made _full_ use of the bed the night before, he managed to coax out a sleepy orgasm for both of them ere Dex's alarm went off. Their morning run left him filled with more endorphins than usual, and he managed to get a shower in before all the hot water was gone. Dex made him a few waffles for breakfast so he could finish up a little bit of reading, and it ensured he does awesome on the pop quiz the professor sprung on his class.

At lunch, he manages to time everything _perfectly_ , getting all his food immediately after it's been put out, so it's all fresh and not been breathed on by dozens of people. His econ professor gave back their papers and she loved his so much that she would like to use as an example of what a paper _should_ be. All of his lab experiments come out picture-perfect, so he doesn't have to redo anything or scramble for bullshit answers of what went wrong.

So he feels like should have known things were too good to last.

When his lab lets out, a security officer is waiting for him. "Mr Whisk? Mr Connor Whisk? The dean would like to see you. Please follow me."

"What does she want?" Connor asks, slowly falling into step.

"Honestly? I don't know," the officer admits, getting a bit more friendly. "I just was told that she'd like you in the Wiseman Room."

Connor forces himself to take a deep breath and slip behind his walls. He can’t imagine why the Dean would want to see him, much less why she’d want to see him in the fanciest receiving room on campus. There are very few people he knows that would insist on that level of formality and none of them bode well for him.

Since it’s on the other side of campus, he gets to ride in one of the glorified golf-carts the security officers use. He’s silent almost the entire ride, trying not to speculate too much on what could be happening, but also mentally preparing himself for the worse. He wishes that Dex could be there with him because having that safe, steady warmth next to him always makes things easier to bear, but since that’s not possible, he texts him instead so if it is truly awful news, Dex will be ready for him when he gets to the Haus.

Connor enters the room and the dean—who has been obviously trying to appear as if she’s not fawning over the guests—gets up to greet him, but he barely pays her any attention.

“Aunt Linda,” he says in surprise, “Uncle Johnny, Uncle Ned. What are you all doing here?”

“Surprising you, of course,” Aunt Linda replies lightly, her voice reedier than he remembered it. “It’s been a while and since Neddy had some business in Boston, Johnny and I decided to tag along and not let him have all the fun.”

“We’ve also heard so much about your young man,” Uncle Johnny says, “that we thought now might be a good time to meet him.”

“I can text him to come here,” Connor offers.

“Actually, we were hoping once we were done with the tea Ms Mosely”—she inclines her head towards the dean—“is providing us and we finish discussing some business that you would show us around a little bit. The campus is supposed to be one of the prettiest in the country, and I’m curious about this Hockey Haus you keep referring to in your letters. It might be fun to see.” She waggles her eyebrows in an over-exaggerated way, and both her husband and her brother roll their eyes.

“Okay,” Connor agrees and the moment they’re distracted by the dean’s assistant bringing in the tea, he fires off another quick text to his boyfriend, telling him to get Bitty to help him QUICKLY CLEAN THE HAUS.

Aunt Linda does eventually dismiss the dean (in the politest way possible, of course), and then she turns to Connor, face serious. “I wish I could say this visit was all about pleasure, but we have some business that we have to discuss with you.” She folds her wrinkled hands in front of her. “Johnny’s…Johnny’s cancer is back”—Connor makes a small noise—“and the prognosis is…less than ideal.”

“I am… _so_ sorry,” the teen says. “What can I do to help?”

“There’s nothing that you can do.” Johnny’s teeth clench slightly, an old habit from back when he smoked a pipe. “But we’re really not here to talk about me—we’d like to talk about you.”

“Me?” The teen blinks.

“Well, you and your sweetheart,” Aunt Linda says. She leans forward slightly. “How are you both fixed for next year?”

“I’m worried about Dex’s scholarships,” he says immediately. “I know the hockey one is probably safe, because that’s based off his skill and his grades, but the other ones…”

“Julia never _did_ take well to things deviating from her plan,” Uncle Ned murmurs. “You’re right to worry that she’ll run you both down like rabbits.”

“Neddy, stop that,” Aunt Linda scolds.

“Why? The boy’s being smart to worry like that. I’m not saying anything that he hasn’t already thought. And if there’s anything her daughter learned from her, it’s how to be vindictive and petty. I think the kid is being remarkably sensible about the whole thing.” He turns back to Connor. “And what about _your_ scholarships?”

“I don’t have any. Yet. I’m applying, but…” He shrugs slightly. “It’s still too early to tell on most of them. But I do have some jobs lined up for the summer, and Dex has helped me with my FAFSA, so at least I’ll have something for next year.”

Uncle Johnny glances up from his scone, interested. “Jobs, huh,” he says. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to be working at an ice rink, helping running some hockey camps in the mornings, and the afternoons to evenings, I’ll be working the front desk of a repair shop.”

He nods, looking mildly satisfied. “Never doubt the education you can get from honest work. Knowing how the people on the ground work and how they feel about their jobs will give you new insights. It’s served me very well in the past, and I think you’ll learn a lot. Plus, having a variety of jobs is good; you'll be amazed how many skills can be transferred from one job to the next."

"If nothing else, you'll get an idea of what you hate in a job," Uncle Ned mutters, "which is an equally important lesson."

“Just remember there’s more to life than working,” Uncle Johnny adds. “And the sooner you know what you’re working _for_ , the happier you’ll be in the end.”

“We’ll look into the scholarship bit for you,” Aunt Linda says and slowly gets to her feet. “Now, I do believe it’s about time that we met your young man.”

Connor quickly helps throw away napkins and the likes before holding the door open from his relatives. The dean—who had been sitting on one of the chairs in the foyer—immediately puts away her tablet and quickly offers the use of their cart that they use to tote around potential major donors and bigwigs. They accept, and Connor finds himself comfortably situated on the wide back-facing seat next to Uncle Ned’s walker a few minutes later. The security guard that’s driving look at them like they’re crazy when they tell him to take them to the hockey house, but she takes them there, abet through a slightly more scenic route than is necessary.

Tango is waiting on the porch for them. “Hi, Whiskey’s family!” He says brightly. “Dex and Bitty have a pie in the oven for you all when you’re done seeing everything!”

Connor makes the quick introductions and Tango blinks before beaming so hard when he gets introduced as a friend that the chestnut-haired boy worries that his cheeks might fall off.

It takes a moment to get everyone inside and they all end up in the kitchen (because Bitty has clearly freaked out over the state of the green couch and has rearranged the main living area to try and hide it, but now it is next to impossible for someone with a walker to navigate the space). Dex is mixing something, but he pauses to kiss his boyfriend ‘hello’; Connor wishes that they could make out a little bit because his head is full with the arrival of his family and the news of Uncle Johnny’s cancer and the promise to look into Dex’s scholarships, and Dex _always_ does such a good job of silencing the clamour in his head until he’s ready to process it and deal with it.

Still, it helps that the redhead didn’t even blink about giving him his favourite form of greeting; it warms Connor and even though he’s feeling a little overwhelmed, the small gesture has anchored him. Dex is here, Dex loves him, and Dex will help him sort through everything. He’s not doing this on his own.

Aunt Linda smiles slowly as she looks over Dex. “You must be the one he’s been writing about. I’m Linda, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Um, hi,” Dex say, nerves clearly returning. “I’m Dex. Uh, William. I’d shake your hand but…” He awkwardly glances at his floury hands.

“Oh, we completely understand!” She waves towards the other two old men. “That one there is my brother Ned, and that one is my husband, John.”

The tall redhead nods in their direction. “Nice to meet you.”

Tango peers hard at Uncle Ned. “Hey, you’re Edward Seton!” He realises, a bit after the fact. “Oh wow! Ollie and Wicky are going to _flip_ when they come down! What’s your favourite instrument to play? Where did you get the idea for that candy bar jingle? Is it true that they tried to bribe you so you’d write the score for the Titan Trilogy instead of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles?”

Uncle Ned blinked, clearly unprepared for the storm that is an excited and curious Tango. “Bribes are unethical,” he says after a moment, “but they _did_ try to offer me a Bösendorfer as a ‘signing bonus’ so I would sign an exclusive contract with the studio.”

“Wow,” Tango breathes, clearly hanging on to every word. He happily bombards the famous composer with more questions while Connor offers everyone water.

Just then, Wicky comes clattering in. He starts to greet Dex, catches sight of Connor’s relatives, does a double take, jibbers out something that sounds vaguely flattering and fanboy-ish, and flees from the room. A few moments later, there’s a pounding as he races out of the building.

“Wicky’s in the orchestra,” Dex explains to the slightly befuddled relatives. “He’s probably getting Ollie right now and they’ll be wanting your autograph.”

“The _Seton Concerto in F Major_ strikes again!” Aunt Linda says, smiling. “I _told_ you it was an amazing piece of music!”

“Neddy wasn’t going to send it out,” Uncle Johnny confides in Connor and Tango. “He was just going to let it gather dust forever on the mantle. We finally had to send it out _for_ him.”

“I wasn’t sending it out because I wasn’t satisfied with it,” Uncle Ned says, clearly re-treading an old argument.

“Funny how nobody agrees with you on that,” Aunt Linda retorts brightly and the two bicker for a few minutes.

Connor is starting to almost relax when chaos descends—Bitty comes whirling in, Jack Zimmermann and that other Samwell alum (the one with the moustache) in his wake. The tiny blond greets everybody, worries that his pie isn’t done baking yet, and tries to take over Dex’s baking absently (the redhead gently pushes him back towards Zimmermann).

The alum, however, spots Aunt Linda, drops his phone, and loses his _shit_. Apparently, her work and her company policies are like this guy’s _dream_. He can’t seem to say enough about her treatment of women and how she was a forerunner in so many different rights that Connor starts a count in his head of how many the guy can list before he passes out from lack of oxygen.

Dex sets a timer and slides in next to Connor, his large hand light rest on the shorter teen’s back. Connor shifts his weight slightly, relaxing into the redhead’s strong side. He still wants to make out with Dex a bit (but he should be honest here—he almost _always_ wants to make out with Dex)—but he’s starting to feel his chest warm. He has Dex. He has family that still likes him (and it had been a bit entertaining watching the college scramble to impress them). He has hockey. He has—for now—a place to go and jobs waiting for him.

He tucks himself in closer and listens as Dex and Uncle Johnny start to compare working childhoods and slowly bond over the more ridiculous stories from their hard-worked and hard-won backgrounds. He’s safe here.

Even when the pandemonium increases when Ollie and Wicky show up and start losing their minds over by Uncle Ned and Bitty starts making yet another pie to supplement the cookies Dex has going and the pie that’s cooling on the rack, Connor feels something akin to contentment thrumming through his veins. Things aren’t perfect and he knows that he has a steep learning curve ahead of him, but the situation isn’t hopeless and empty. Right now, it’s obvious that he’s not alone. There’s a support system and there are people who aren’t afraid to show that they care about him. If everything collapses in on him, he will still have options.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a sort of happy blur. His relatives handle the pandemonium with grace, and the team joyfully get pictures, autographs, and answers to all _sorts_ of burning questions. Dex loses some of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders and anytime he’s next to Connor, he puts a hand on the shorter boy—his shoulder, his waist, his knee, his back, his hip—and lets the silent point of contact reassure Connor.

Uncle Ned insists on taking them out to dinner and Uncle Johnny buys pizza for the rest of the team so they don’t feel _too_ left out (Connor is pretty sure that the three are going to go down as Honorary Samwell Hockey Gods), and that’s nice as well. The five of them end up at a small hole-in-the-wall Turkish restaurant that’s not too far from campus that he’s seen, but never visited.

When Dex excuses himself to run to the restrooms, Aunt Linda fixes Connor with a look. “He’s a good one,” she says.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“I like him. A bit of fresh air, but his feet are firmly on the ground,” she smiles and the uncles nod. “He seems to make you happy.”

Connor looks down at his plate. “He does,” he murmurs. “He really does.”

“Good.” She sounds satisfied. “Don’t lose that.”

“And don’t let the fun go out of it,” Uncle Johnny advises. “You need to balance the work that a relationship is with the fun. Don’t let one outweigh the other for too long or you’ll fall off the scale.”

“Okay,” he agrees as Dex comes back and the conversation drifts to other topics.

Connor hugs all three of them when it comes time for them to leave and Dex—who had offered his hand—gets pulled into hugs and the younger teen has to muffle his snickers at the expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Well, that was an experience,” Dex says dryly as they start to make their way back to the Haus.

“They’re characters,” Connor agrees. “But they’re still pretty cool.”

“Yeah.”

They don’t say much more, but Dex lets Connor tangle their fingers together as they walk, his ears only going a little pink in the fading light at the intimate gesture.

Right before they reach the Haus, Connor gently tugs them to a stop. Dex lifts an eyebrow in question. “I want…I want to spend the night,” the forward says. “I know you don’t want us to wear out our welcome before we’re paying rent, but…I need you.” He hopes his eyes are conveying how _much_ he needs to be with Dex before falling asleep in his arms.

Judging how Dex’s ears go from pink to red, he does. “Um. Yeah, I guess we can do that, but that means tomorrow night we for sure have to sleep in our own dorm rooms,” he warns.

Connor steps in even closer and rises to his toes so he can lightly kiss Dex. “Okay,” he agrees and feels his blood warming quickly at the reverential expression that’s making an appearance on the redhead’s face. _God_ , they need to get to their room and they need to get there _quickly_ or they’ll _never_ pay off the fines they’ll accrue (and they’ll _never_ live down the chirps that’ll come with it).

He doesn’t know how they do it, but they make it down to their room and Dex gently pins him against the wall by the door, kissing him slowly and hungrily. It’s good, it’s _so_ good, and he presses up into it.

They make out until Whiskey forces himself to untangle his tongue from Dex’s. “Bed,” he whispers. “Please.”

“Let me get my boots off first,” the older teen mumbles before kissing him again.

And as much as he wouldn’t mind Dex picking him up and fucking him right there ( _god_ , that was hot! Connor is—officially—ruined for anyone else after that experience), he has something else in mind. So he hastily kick off his own shoes and nudging them so they’re sort of tidy on the boot tray before starting to strip.

He’s halfway to naked when strong arms curl around him from behind, Dex’s lips warmly mouthing the side of his neck before his teeth gently scraped against the skin.

A fine tremor runs through his body and Connor pauses in what he is doing, tilting his head so his boyfriend has more room. Dex makes a quiet, please noise, and smooths one hand up over Connor’s chest while the other one dips into Connor’s opened jeans, cradling him gently in a rough, hard hand.

“ _Dex_.”

“What do you want, Love?” The redhead punctuates the question with a tender bite and Connor writhes a little.

It’s hard to think, but he forces his brain online. “I want to fuck you,” he manages to gasp out, turning so he can face his sweet boyfriend. As much as he utterly _adores_ Dex’s thick dick inside him, he needs something different today.

Dex, the absolute marvel that he is, doesn’t even blink. “Okay,” he murmurs. “How do you want me?”

Connor kisses him in response. He loves how _easy_ Dex makes sex—it's not a competition, it's not a power play, it's not something to be endured if things don't go his way (Dex is willing to let the chestnut-haired boy to experiment and explore, but if he doesn't want to do something, he'll kibosh the idea and offer up some sort of compromise). It’s just the two of them, enjoying themselves and each other.

“Bed,” Connor says again, practically shoving the word into Dex’s willing mouth.

They finish stripping (Dex insists on folding their things and putting them down on a chair before making sure the curtains are tightly closed) and Dex allows himself to be shoved backwards on to the bed. His large hands gently catch Connor’s hips as he climbs over the freckled teen, but he doesn’t try to force the smaller player to go one direction or another; he lets Connor settle himself down anyway he wants as he spreads his legs slightly.

They kiss a little bit more and Connor’s head spins with how _good_ that warm freckled skin feels against his. It causes him to fumble a little bit as he reaches for the lube and him to bite back a groan of disappointment when he has to pull back a little so he can start prepping Dex.

Opening Dex’s body is a study of patience and perseverance; it does not yield like Connor’s is wont to do and the redhead isn’t nearly as sensitive as he is. But Dex kisses him leisurely through the entire process and tells him when he needs to be still or slower, never leaving Connor in the dark.

Finally, finally, _finally_ he sinks into the redhead’s warmth and he struggles to pull air into his lungs in the face of all that tight pleasure. He has to _focus_ ; he can’t just start thrusting, no matter _how_ good Dex feels.

“Not yet, Love,” Dex mutters, a bit strained as he fights to force his body to relax faster than it wants to. “Gimme a moment.”

“Okay,” the younger teen pants out, counting backwards from a hundred to try and help him from giving in to his baser urges. He reminds himself that Dex _trusts_ him, has trusted no-one _but_ him in this manner. Nobody else has gotten lucky enough to earn this level of trust and Connor intends to _keep_ it that way.

“Okay,” Dex gasps a few minutes later. “But go slow, yeah?”

Connor leans forwards and kisses Dex as sweetly as he can, considering the circumstances, and rolls his hips deftly.

It takes a few careful thrusts before Dex’s head snaps back, gasping. The forward breathes a mental sigh of relief—he found Dex’s prostate. When he is able to hit that gland, his boyfriend _always_ has a better experience on the receiving end. But that is sometimes easier said than done, and he is grateful that he found the angle early on.

Strong fingers dig into his waist. “Right _there_ ,” the redhead breaths. “Oh Love, _there!_ ”

He does not need to tell Connor twice.

Connor tries to keep his pace steady, like Dex can (seriously, the _stamina_ and _patience_ of that boy! If the younger teen didn’t regularly reap the benefits of said traits, it would annoy the _hell_ out of him), but it’s not that simple. Dex has started using his teeth on the short player’s neck and one of his hands is eagerly clutching one ass cheek in an attempt to try and push Connor deeper. In between nips, he’s mumbling about how gorgeous and perfect he thinks Connor is. And honestly, Connor’s only human.

He starts driving in harder and faster much sooner than he wanted to be, but there’s only so much he can take before he breaks. His freckled boyfriend is making it far too easy to wrap things up quickly.

And then Dex gasps out ‘perfect, you’re _so_ perfect, love you _so_ much,’ before latching on to the shorter teen’s favourite spot on his neck. Connor almost yells and he comes, _hard_.

The redhead is shifting restlessly under him as he slowly becomes aware of things again. Connor carefully pulls out and before his boyfriend can say anything more than ‘ _Love_ —’, he slides down and he swallows that wonderful thick erection all the way down.

Dex makes that punched-out sound of his that means that Connor’s doing things _very_ right and strong, rough fingers grabbed on to his shoulders. Connor pulls back slightly and adds a little tongue and Dex cries out. A moment later, the smaller teen’s mouth is flooded.

He’s not a huge fan of the taste of semen, but he swallows most of it. The rest he lets trickle down his chin and it pays off almost immediately—Dex’s golden eyes get dark again and he reverentially rubs his thumb gently against the corner of Connor’s mouth. Then he pulls the smaller teen forwards, kissing him slowly.

“Love, you’re _so_ amazing,” Dex murmurs a few moments later.

“Thank you,” Connor says after a beat. “I really needed that. I know you’re not as fond of receiving, but…”

The strong, freckled body rolls slightly underneath him. “You say it like it’s some sort ordeal to fucked by you,” the redhead teases gently. “I can promise you, it _isn’t_. Sex with you is _never_ bad.”

Connor feels a bit obligated to kiss him for saying that.

Dex finally breaks away. “Let me get us cleaned up,” he says softly, thumb petting the hinge of Connor’s jaw. “Then we can go back to this, okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one doing that?”

“Nope.” Dex lifts him off to the side and _damn it_ , that was hot and Connor gets distracted enough that the taller teen is able to get to the bathroom before he can protest.

“Cheater,” he accuses when Dex comes back with a wet washcloth.

“Don’t be bitter just because you were slow.” Dex ducks down and kisses the tip of his nose before cleaning them both up and pulling the towel away. A few minutes later, he slides under the covers next to Connor, curling an arm over the shorter teen.

They cuddle in silence for a few minutes, Connor slowly reaching levels of calmness and relaxation he can only reach in the safety of Dex’s arms. Finally, he feels like he can talk about the events of the day.

“Uncle Johnny’s cancer is back,” he says quietly. “And it doesn’t look good. It’s one of the reasons they visited today.”

Dex’s arms tighten and he places a soft kiss on the messy chestnut strands.

“I think they also wanted to make sure that you were good for me,” he adds after a moment. “And that I was getting by by myself.”

“But you’re not by yourself.”

“No,” Connor agrees, nuzzling in closer. “I’m not. But I think they needed to see that for themselves.” He presses his lips to a freckled hollow of Dex’s throat. “It was their way of making sure that I was okay. They got to see me, and they got to see you, and they got to see me with you. They think you’re good for me. I concur.” He kisses Dex’s throat again.

“So what happens now? Are you going to be able to do things like, I don’t know, spend holidays with them? Have them come to Family Weekend? Ask for financial support?” Dex drags his rough fingers slowly down Connor’s back.

Connor arches slightly in pleasure before he settles back into the warmth of his boyfriend’s body. “I don’t know. I think…I think all I want is emotional support from them. Maybe have them come to games and other events, but…I don’t want their money. I want to prove that I can stand my own two feet. That my mother is wrong—that I don’t need to go running to my family the moment things don’t go exactly to plan. I don’t need their money in order to succeed.”

He risks a glance up. Dex is smiling at him, pleased and proud. “That’s the harder route,” the redhead points out. “I think it’s ultimately a better one, but it’s definitely the harder route.”

“I know. But I think it gets easier when you have people in your corner.”

Dex kisses him. “I agree,” he murmurs against Connor’s mouth before pressing back in.

Connor relaxes into the sweetness of Dex’s kisses. He knows that things won’t be easy, but he has his great-aunt and great-uncles and the hockey team and Holly and Dex’s uncles. He has a support system. He has a place to live. Most importantly, he has Dex.

And he knows that with Dex by his side, he’ll make it. It won’t always be easy or fun, but he’ll make it.

With that in mind, he rolls on to his back, pulling his boyfriend over him as he goes. Nobody else might believe in them, but he knows that they have something special. And he’ll tell Dex that, because his boyfriend should be told that often and regularly, but first, he’s going to kiss Dex senseless so the older teen won’t argue when he _does_ tell him.

After all, Dex needs to know.

_x Fin x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap, folks! Thank you for everyone who read, kudos, and commented--especially those who took the time to comment! I loved hearing your responses! It really meant a lot to me.
> 
> This universe is by no means over, as I know at least three more stories (minimum!) in it (two will even have CHAPTERS! What What!), and I've already started the next one. We'll see how long it takes me, especially since I may or may not have a million other stories going (it's less than twenty right now, honest!), but there will be more.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you taking the time.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism and comments are always welcomed.


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